


The Fallacy of Gods and Heroes

by Hyperionova



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Fantasy, God of War (2018), Gods, Heroes, M/M, Monsters, Slow Burn, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 111,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22150906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyperionova/pseuds/Hyperionova
Summary: Adrian's hopes for a quiet life are met with disappointment when he realizes that a journey, dangerous and consequential, has to be made for his son's sake. While Kylan longs for his father's affection, Adrian prepares the boy to face life. On their adventure, they come across all sorts of creatures and people. One among those is Jongin, a soft-spoken witch with countless animal pets, who immediately grows fond of the boy. The father? Not so much.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Original Character(s), Kim Jongin | Kai/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story is based on/inspired by God of War 4!  
> The [VISUAL THREAD](https://twitter.com/se_kai94/status/1208024278567915521) for the story.  
> The pdf version includes illustrations and a map→ [PDF](https://escapisthyp.wixsite.com/hype/the-fallacy-of-gods-and-heroes)

The Fallacy of Gods and Heroes

by Hyperionova

* * *

# Book One

* * *

# Quest One

**Home.**

The journey had to be made. Deferring it any longer would result in an irreversible, incorrigible catastrophe. There was still a chance. A chance to undo the tragic fate that had been set upon them. It was not a promise. It was hope.

And Adrian had believed that he was all out of hope. He was all out of faith. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

As he stood on the riverbank, gazing calculatedly at the stream ahead, he wondered how deep he would have to reach in order to find just a speck of hope. This journey could not be made without hope, not even if he could rely on his sheer brute strength to get him through the underworld and back.

The current of the stream was strong. Strong enough to carry felled trees. Deep enough to drown a man. Tearing his gaze away from it, he glanced back over his shoulder to look at the cabin he had made his home some nine years ago. He had built it all with his own two hands.

Then, he had not thought that, one day, he would be forced to leave it. He had come to this realm, believing that he would live out the rest of his life in peace and quiet. But a lot had happened in the last years when he recounted them. During those years, he had, inchmeal, lost all hope for a quiet life. He had lost hope for everything.

But this was his destiny. There is no quiet or peace for him in this life. And he was certain that he would not get another life.

_“A father’s sins will shadow his son, for that a father’s sins cannot be atoned by his son.”_

The words belonged to a hex, and they continued to ring in his ears his every waking moment since the day he had heard them.

The old, haggish hex had taken all but one look at the new-born babe before fiendishly spitting the words at Adrian. Prior to that day, Adrian had never even seen the woman. But she knew him. She knew of his secrets. Of the fallacy of all gods and heroes. She came to his door, knowing all about him.

Even though witches and hexes were never to be trusted, for the reason that every last one of them was a corrupt and sordid abomination, there had been something about the hex that had shown up on his doorstep.

 _“You bring a malady from your realm,”_ she had said. How she knew that he was of another realm, he did not know.

But then again, hexes and witches had their occult and mystical faculty of sight. They could see things that no one else could. Do devilry that not even gods could fend off. It was what made them dangerous and abhorrent.

 _“It will ail your child,”_ she said. _“It will take him and consume him before he could see his seventh winter.”_

Kylan’s seventh winter was approaching apace.

The journey must be made.

The days were becoming shorter. The sun rose and fell like it loathed its duty. The last serenade of the summery days faded behind the winds that were growing cold. In less than three moons, this river would be frozen solid.

They must set forth for the mountains before the roads and woods turned rimy, before the animals retreat to overwinter in hibernation. There would be nothing to hunt when the cold came.

Looking down at his callused, blistered palms, he tightened the wraps around his hands. He then took deep breath before he turned on his heel and started for the cabin. He gazed ahead at the blurry mountains hiding behind thick shrouds of mist and fog, beyond a vast expanse of trees. He had not been to the mountains in the last nine years. But he knew what resided there. He hoped that it would be the answer.

They would leave for the mountains at first light. It would be at least a month’s journey. More if they were met with obstruction and challenges. They most likely would. He must be prepared for them all.

The boy wasn’t. He was not ready. After all, he was only a little more than six years old. But the journey must and would be made. There was simply no other way.

* * *

He could not fall asleep, so he lay wide awake in his pallet, staring at the ceiling, wondering when his father might return. Sometimes, the man went away for nearly half a day to hunt. He never returned emptyhanded, though. His father never failed at anything he attempted. He _never_ failed. It was both admirable and frightening. Especially for a weak, frail little boy like himself, who could never even dream of living up to his old man.

His father was strong. And formidable. In comparison, Kylan was just a sick, worthless, unwanted burden, who wished every night that he would not wake the next day. He would welcome death happily. That way, he would no longer be a burden to his father, and he would get to see his mother at long last.

He coughed and hugged his wooden toy closer to his chest, shuddering under the flimsy, threadbare blanket. It was the only thing his mother had left him. The toy was made to look like a man clad in heavy armour. When he had tried asking his father about who the man was, his father had simply clenched his teeth and returned his attention to whetting his tomahawk. He carried that thing everywhere, just like how Kylan carried his toy everywhere.

He did not know why he always waited for his father to come back from his hunt. Sometimes, he would take Kylan along for practice. But most of the time, he would be too sick to go with his father. Which was for the best. He only ever disappointed the man every time he went along.

Still, it was the only time Kylan got to leave the house. He did not particularly enjoy being grunted at every time he made a mistake, nor did he feel good about his father’s menacing glare of disappointment, but he got to see the outside world.

It was starting to get cold. So, his father would not take him outside as often anymore.

He coughed again and frowned sadly. He still waited for his father to come home, even though they never talked, unless his father was giving him orders during practice or berating him for his mistakes. Kylan wanted to talk to him. Just as much as he wanted to curl up next to his father’s huge, burly, warm body when the winter days got too cold. But he had learned that anything he said only annoyed his father. That was why the man never answered any of his questions.

Were all fathers in the world as harsh to their sons as his father was to him? Kylan would not know. The only people he ever got to see were travellers, but he was not allowed to talk to any of them. Why? He did not know. He was not given any reasons. He had not asked for them either because he knew that his father would ignore him like he always did.

He tossed and turned in his bed, coughing and wheezing nearly every time he took a breath. It was as though he had a frog in his throat. His heartbeat was also erratically fast. Sometimes, in the silence, it was all that he could hear. That and the beat of the river’s current.

Sometimes, he coughed out blood. During those times, his father would stare at him for a moment too long with his brows furrowed and hands clenched. Kylan often wondered if the man’s painstaking attention to the blood meant something. Did he care? Or was he just annoyed by the fact that he had to look after a poorly child that was of no use or help to him?

Kylan tried, though. Even if he had not even reached the age of seven, he tried to be as useful as he could, so that he would not be a complete burden to his father. He kept their home clean. He made their beds every morning. He chased out the mice that came into their home. He brought in firewood for the fireplace when it got cold. He always put the bigger hunks of meat or vegetables in his father’s bowl. He was small, anyway. He did not need much food. But his father was a big man, so Kylan figured he would need a lot more fare to feed his huge, hard muscles.

His father was all muscle, all thew. Sometimes, Kylan wondered how he—who was tiny, weedy and weak—could be the son of a man that powerfully built. Next to his father, he was nothing but a shaky little weakling, who had to take three to four steps in order to keep up with his father’s single stride.

He sat up on his bed and slouched worriedly, glancing toward the door. He wished that his father would at least tell him where he was going, so that he would not have to worry like this. Except that Kylan was not just worried about his father.

The night was growing increasingly dark, and not even the candles could fend off the eerie darkness that flooded their home. Kylan’s heart was pounding harder than it usually did because he was afraid. Not necessarily of the dark, but of what lurked in it. Last year, a bear had broken into the house. Kylan had been frozen to the spot he was standing in, shivering in fear. It had been a terrifyingly big bear. And it charged straight towards Kylan, who was too petrified to even realize that he was sobbing.

If it had not been for his father who grabbed his tomahawk at once and struck the bear down without faltering in his steps, Kylan would have died that very day in the clawed paws of the bear.

 _“What do you think you’re doing?!”_ his father had rapped him furiously, harshly grabbing hold of his little shoulders. He had been bathed in the bear’s blood. They both were. Kylan had trembled in his father’s ferocious grip. _“You do not freeze when an enemy attacks, boy! You either fight or flee!”_

It had been a very important lesson, but Kylan had been far too shaken up to soak it in. He had wanted to lean into his father’s chest and sob. He had wanted to hug his father and tell the man how sorry he was that he had panicked. He was just… afraid. He had never seen a bear before. He had wanted his father to embrace him and tell him it was all going to be all right. It was all that he had ever wanted, quite frankly.

But instead, he watched his father sigh disappointedly before he rose back to his full height. Later, as he washed the blood off his bodies and clothes, his father hauled the dead bear into the woods that surrounded their house.

He sighed. Then he coughed, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Looking to his father’s empty bed forlornly, he rose to his feet and wobbled over to it. He then flumped on it and fisted his hands around the bear hide his father used as a blanket.

“I wish you were here,” he muttered under his breath. He was not sure if he were talking to his father or his mother. Neither was there for him. Some pesky tears burned his eyes then. He furiously wiped them away. He let his fingers linger on the gnarly scar on his left cheek.

He should not resent his mother for not being here. She had died giving birth to him. If anything, he should resent himself for bringing an ill fate upon her.

He was unlucky through and through. Burdensome. Bad luck. Perhaps that was why his father hated him. Because his wife was taken away from him for giving birth to a sickly, ill-fated runt.

Kylan hid his face in his hands, not wanting his tears to fall. It was the same affliction every night. Perhaps he was just too young to understand what was happening around him.

He wished his mother was here, though. He did not know much about her. His father never talked about her. When he was a little younger, he used to ask the man about her. His father only told him that she had died at childbirth, and she was a clever and deeply religious woman. Kylan hoped that he would be clever like her one day. He was not sure about the religious part, though. He knew that his father had renounced the gods and now lived his life without following any faith. He had told Kylan, however, that the boy was free to choose his own faith as he grew up. Kylan did not know much about the existing religions, but he was mighty curious about the old gods, and why they were so important to his mother. His father had told him that she worshipped the old gods and that she was considered a heathen. Kylan was not sure he entirely understood what the latter meant.

He wondered why his father had renounced the gods, though. Why the man hated the very subject of gods. But then again, he seemed to hate most things. Kylan included. Not that he had ever vocally expressed his aversion. But Kylan knew how to read between the lines. He was incredibly observant for someone his age. He knew his very existence exasperated his father.

The door swung open, letting in a gush of cold night air, after a length. Kylan shot up from his father’s bed at once and hurried back to his own. Their house was not very big. It had one door—the front door. There was only room for a fireplace, two or three beds, and a kitchen, where they made food.

Perched on the edge of his bed, he peered at his father, who walked into the house… emptyhanded. Kylan blinked confusedly. Had he not gone hunting?

Removing the tomahawk from his belt, he set it aside before wandering toward his bed. He was wearing a serious expression. Well, he was always serious. But there was something else. He almost looked nervous. And he had never seen his father look nervous before.

Instead of heading for his own bed, the man turned toward Kylan. The boy felt his little heart beat faster in his chest.

His father lifted his gaze to meet Kylan’s. He had terrifying dark eyes that were speckled with both faint green and yellow. Even though Kylan owned the same set of eyes, his did not look so aggrieved and forbidding. Sometimes, he believed that his father could totally fell a feral beast with just his gaze.

He was frowning as he lowered to a crouch before Kylan. He was always frowning or scowling. Kylan only ever saw the man’s brows relax when he was asleep. He often wondered if there was anything that he could do to ease his father’s worries and indignation. He was always crestfallen when he realized that there was something that he _could_ do. He could remove himself from his father’s side for good.

His father looked like he was about to say something important. So, Kylan sat up straighter and stayed attentive. However, he could not help but lower his eyes when his father stared into them so meticulously.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” the man said. His voice was always gruff and gravelly. It could especially be very intimidating when he was angry.

Kylan blinked at him. Had he done something wrong to upset his father? Was he about to receive an earful for a mistake he had made unknowingly?

His father stood on his knees and sucked in a sharp breath. He looked deeply troubled. “You will sleep restfully tonight,” he said. “When I wake you before daybreak, you will be prepared to leave.”

Kylan remained mum and still for a moment. Then in a timid voice, he asked, “L-Leave?”

His father gave a curt nod of his head. “Take your bow, your quiver of arrows, and your dagger with you.”

He paused to glance down, drawing a more few breaths.

“You are not ready,” he said then under his breath, raising his head to meet Kylan’s confused eyes again. “But the journey must be made.”

“The journey?” asked Kylan, frowning. “Are we going somewhere?”

Another nod. “We will be journeying far. The terrains will not be easy to traverse. There will be challenges along the way. There will be inevitable dangers. There will be _many_ who will stand in our way. You are… simply not ready.”

Kylan wished that the man would stop saying that. Yes, he knew that he was not ready. He was not ready for anything. But he was only a boy. He wished that his father would see that for once. He wanted the man to look at him as a little boy and not expect such great things from him. Especially when it was clear as day that there was nothing great about Kylan.

“Where are we going?” he asked in a quiet murmur.

His father rose back to his feet then and wandered over to the trunk he kept at the foot of his bed. “The mountains.”

Kylan’s eyes bulged out. He had only heard very little about the mountains. But he knew that they were on the other side of the realm, that they were too far away from their home.

“When will we come home?” he asked.

His father was silent for a moment, staring into the trunk, as though he were distracted. Then in a solemn tone, he said, “We might not.”

Kylan was now more curious than confused. He wanted to ask his father a million questions. Why must the journey _be made?_ What did that mean? Why were they going to the mountains? Why did Kylan need to pack his bow and dagger?

They had never left home to go somewhere so far away before. Especially Kylan.

“It is at least a month’s journey,” his father then said, withdrawing a huge bundle from the trunk. He was looking at it so hopelessly that Kylan almost saw the man’s sorrow. Or perhaps it was disappointment. What did he keep wrapped in those rags, Kylan wondered, that made him look so dejected?

“I will be ready at dawn, Father,” said Kylan determinedly then. Whatever this journey entailed, he would do his best to not to let his father down, even though he would end up disappointing the man in the end, anyway. It was how it always was. Kylan’s best was simply not enough to meet his father’s expectations.

“Good,” his father said and stamped out the candles before he settled on the bed. “Now, sleep, boy.”

“Yes, Father,” Kylan muttered. As he lay quietly, he watched his father sit on his own bed while exactingly surveying the wrapped length he was holding in his hands for a few long minutes. He did not bother to unwrap it as he placed it in a knapsack. Then he continued to sit in the dark, shoulders slumped, head hung.

Closing his eyes at long last, Kylan excitedly entertained the idea of the journey being an adventure. But he probably should not be so excited at the prospect of it if it had his father so troubled and distressed.

Challenges and dangers. And many who would stand in their way. Kylan wanted to know what all of those meant. They were nobody. Why would two nobodies making their way to the mountains attract trouble? What was at the mountains? Why did his father need to go there so urgently?

Kylan was willing to be optimistic that he would get his answers eventually on the journey.

For now, he tried to let sleep take him while his father sat the dark, brooding endlessly.

* * *

At the break of dawn, Adrian had roused the boy and told him to wash up fast. He then watched the boy sleepily clamber out of the bed and teeter his way to the washbasin while rubbing his eyes on the hilt of his palms. He drowsily washed his face and cleaned his teeth with a rough cloth.

Adrian sighed and handed the boy a thick tunic along with a cloak made from wolf pelt. “It might be too big for you now,” he said, holding the cloak out. “But you will grow into it.”

The boy bowed his head and started getting dressed. Adrian finished the last of his packing. The knapsack was filled with waterskins and food to last them a week. After that, they would have to hunt and scavenge on their way to survive. The knapsack also held some clothes, a small tent canvas and a few other items he deemed would be necessary for their journey.

He allowed Kylan to carry his own knapsack. He tried not to glower at the boy when he saw him stuff his favourite book about some fairy-tale and his toy into his knapsack.

“Your dagger, boy,” Adrian reminded him in a stern tone.

“Ah, yes,” the boy rasped and shot back up to his feet to retrieve the dagger from under his pillow. Adrian had told him to keep it there in case a wild animal broke in again when they were asleep.

He then waited for the boy to pull on his footwear. Then straightening up, Kylan slung the little knapsack, bow and quiver onto his shoulders. “I’m ready, Father,” he said, nodding. He was so pale, so small and weak that he looked like he might topple over with all that weight on his back.

Adrian shook his head disapprovingly and picked his own heavier knapsack up. The boy was not ready. But there was no other choice. He glanced down at his tomahawk that was clinging to the front of his belt and huffed deeply.

They ought to leave now.

As he walked to the door, Kylan followed quietly. Adrian stopped with his hand on the door handle. With his brows furrowed, he looked down at his son for a second. Then looking up again, he gritted his teeth.

“I want you to know that we will not survive this journey,” he told the boy. “if you fail to heed my every order. You must do as I say. You must only do what I tell you to do. Am I understood?”

The boy looked worried and bewildered, but he nodded his head. “Yes, Father. I will do as you say.”

Adrian pushed the door open and stepped out then. He did not know if they would come back here at all, but it would take a long time before they could. If they could.

So, he took one last look at the home he had once believed he would find peace in. The peace had come looking for in this realm.

How could a man ever find peace while his son ailed?

Adrian had to do this. From the day Kylan was born, he only ever lived for the boy. If he did not take the chance and make the journey now, it would have all been for nothing. He would lose the one thing that mattered in his life now.

When he turned around after shutting the door, he found the boy sniffing the air with a certain glow about him. He gripped onto the straps of his knapsack and hopped excitedly on his toes. Adrian wanted to tell him that this journey would not promise him a good time or a pleasant adventure, but perhaps it would be better if the boy was looking forward to one, anyway. Little did Adrian know then that this would be an adventure that would change both their lives forever.

“You must speak with no one without my permission,” Adrian told the boy as he strutted past him, starting for the woods, away from the river.

“We will be meeting someone on our way?” the boy asked, gasping, as he hurried after Adrian.

Slowing down to let his son catch up with his little legs, Adrian nodded. “We will be meeting all sorts of beings on our way. They should not excite you. Some of them will try to kill you.”

“Oh.” Kylan looked away for a moment, trudging over the roots. “Will we have to fight them?”

Adrian nodded again. “It is what is expected of us.”

“I can fight, Father!”

Adrian stayed silent.

“I have been training during our hunts!” exclaimed Kylan. “My aim is almost perfect.”

“Precisely,” Adrian spat harshly. “ _Almost_ is not good enough. Anything short of perfect will get you killed. It is the lesson I need you to learn, boy.”

Kylan fell quiet then, frowning. They did not speak again for a long while. Adrian caught the boy glancing back at their home every couple of minutes. Soon, the cabin disappeared out of sight behind all the trees they had passed.

They might be able to reach the bridge before midday if they kept with the pace they were at now. But within just less than an hour, the boy’s strides turned sluggish as his breathing grew ragged. He started to fall behind.

Adrian stopped and took hold of the boy’s shoulder to halt him. “We will rest for a few minutes.”

Kylan nodded as he wended his way to a tree stump. Flumping on it, he sucked in some deep, heavy breaths. Once he looked rested enough again, Adrian ordered him to stand and wield his bow.

“But why?” the boy asked. “There is nothing to hunt here.”

“Nock your arrow,” Adrian said regardless. The boy did as he was told. “Do you see that fruit there?” He pointed to a high branch. Kylan bowed his head, looking at the purple fruit hanging on the branch.

“That’s the Moonry Plum. But it isn’t edible.”

“Correct. You have been paying attention.” Adrian stood behind the boy. “But I want you to shoot it.”

He could see Kylan frowning. “It is too high up.”

“Be sure to aim higher than where your target is then,” said Adrian, placing a hand on Kylan’s right shoulder to adjust his stance. “Trust that your arms have the strength you need. Draw with credence, boy.”

He watched Kylan draw the bowstring with a harder grip. He was a child, yes. But he was no ordinary child. He had the strength within him. He was just having trouble finding it. Perhaps the illness was making it hard for him to find it. Adrian was determined to push him until the boy found it. It was how he knew Kylan was going to survive.

“I will not make it,” the boy muttered. His frown betrayed his fear of disappointing his father all too well. Adrian scowled and ordered the boy to relax.

Then crouching before him, he glared into the boy’s sad eyes and said, “Believing in yourself, in your own strength is how you will win a battle. A warrior must be confident in himself before anything else.”

Kylan pulled a face. “I am no warrior, Father.”

“Have you not been listening to me, boy?” Adrian growled, and his son flinched. “Believe that you _are_. Do not make yourself a victim.”

“I am not making myself a—”

“And do not talk back to me,” Adrian spat and rose back to his full height. The boy fell silent, jaw clenched the way Adrian’s would clench when he was frustrated. “Now, shoot the fruit.”

Kylan drew the bowstring with a greater determination now, brows pulled together at the bridge of his nose furiously. Adrian knew all too well that there was no better motivation than anger and vengeance.

As the arrow shot through the fruit, pinning it to a nearby tree, Kylan gasped and leaped in both surprise and delight.

“Did you see that?!” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “I shot it! I made the shot!”

Adrian bowed his head. “You must keep practising.”

He noticed the boy’s smile faltering, but he did not say anything about it as he walked away. He knew the boy was waiting for a praise. He was always waiting for a praise. He was not good enough for one yet. And Adrian needed him to know that, so that he would keep making himself better. This was how warriors were made.

He would admit that it was hard to think of the boy as a warrior of any sort. Kylan was quite clever and gifted when it came to reading and counting for someone so young. But knowing how many beans made five would not help him in the real world. Especially not this world.

There would be those who would come for him in the future. Adrian needed to know that the boy would be able to fend for himself. He needed the training. He needed to become a warrior whether he liked it or not.

Because Adrian could not be here forever to protect him. He was only partly immortal, and he was growing older by the moon. He was no longer in his prime as it was. There were greys in his hair now.

“Yes, Father,” Kylan murmured and slung the bow over his shoulder again before following after his father. Adrian reached up and yanked the arrow out of the bark and the punctured fruit it was stuck in. Wiping the arrowhead clean with his cloak, he handed it to Kylan, who promptly put it back in his quiver.

* * *

He tried not to let his exhaustion show. The sun was barely up, and the sky was still mostly dark, streaked with magnificent colours of the sun. His father slowed down for him to let him catch up every now and then, which was surprisingly nice of him, even though Kylan knew that it annoyed the man.

The questions were still buzzing in Kylan’s head. Why were they going to the mountains? Why now? Why was Kylan brought along? And why did his father think that they might not go back home? That had sounded ominous. Everyone would have to go home eventually, didn’t they?

Kylan decided not to dwell on that for now. Besides, he had just left home. He did not want to think about going back so soon. He never got to wander too far away from it. Although tired, he was still very excited, thrilled by what the adventures the roads had in store for him.

His father did not share his excitement, however. To come to think of it, he had never seen the man even smile before.

The sun rapidly clambered its way up the horizon, making way for its light to surge through the woods. Kylan could now see where he was stepping. It resulted in less stumbles and tripping, and ultimately, less daggering stares from his father.

When the silence got heavy enough to bore him, he looked up at his tall, massive father and said, “Does your beard itch?”

“What?” the man said gruffly, pinning Kylan down with a scowl.

Kylan shrugged, hands clinging to the straps of his knapsack. “I have always wondered about it.” He rubbed his own soft chin that was as smooth as his bum. He had seen his father trim that beard of his from time to time, but he had always worn one for as long as Kylan’s memories allowed. “You’ve got a lot of beard.”

As though he were mimicking Kylan’s movement, the man scratched his beard. Both his beard and hair had faint grey hairs in them. Otherwise, they were as dark as Kylan’s own hair.

“No,” he said. Kylan felt his heart skip a beat. It was not always that his father answered one of his questions that were not related to target practice. “It does not… itch.”

“Oh,” he murmured. “Then will I grow one like yours?”

“When you’re older,” he answered again.

Kylan wanted to see if he would answer more of his questions, but he knew better than to push too far. So, he quietly said, “I don’t want to.”

He saw his father’s eyebrow lift curiously.

“I just do not think it would look very good on me,” Kylan clarified, hoping that his remarks had not offended his father.

The man scoffed, like he was amused, and walked ahead.

He came to an abrupt halt, however, stretching an arm out to Kylan, as though to stop him in his tracks. Kylan stopped and stared at the man, whose eyes were fixed at the trees ahead. Something was making a ruffling noise behind them.

Kylan watched his father slowly reach for his tomahawk, jaw clenched, and eyes narrowed. Kylan jumped a little when he saw a white rabbit dart out of the trees.

He chuckled behind a hand then. “It’s just a bunny, Father,” he said. His giggles died at once when his father looked back at him with a grave scowl.

“You will not be wrong to be on your guard at all times, boy,” the man chided him. “It is how you will live to see another day! We can never be _too_ careful on our journey.”

Kylan frowned and nodded. “Yes, Father.”

Oh, his father hated jokes. He hated anything fun. He was… on his guard every hour of the day, even when he was asleep. Which was not exactly a bad thing. He did slay the bear when it broke into their home, didn’t he?

* * *

Kylan was young. Too young. It was only understandable that he had a tendency to be overly curious, playful and mischievous at times. Adrian neither had the patience nor the temperament to entertain children. He had never wanted any.

He had always known that he would not make a good father.

After all, he had not been a very good son either. All things considered, he was not a good person in general.

If he had a son, the son would grow up to be just like him. And that would lead to a fate much similar to that of Adrian’s. That was what he had figured. So, he never wanted to be a father. But here he was, anyways.

Kylan was curious about most things. Even when he did not voice his curiosity most of the time, he still pondered and brooded a lot about many things. It helped during practice. Other times, it was a pain. Adrian did not know how to explain, so he ignored most of the boy’s queries. He had never been so good with words. And for someone so young, his son was extremely masterful with his words. Adrian would not be surprised if Kylan already knew more words than Adrian himself did. And he knew the boy had not picked up his flair for language and reading from his father. Adrian was not a very good reader. Or speaker. He got it all from his mother, who was intelligent, discerning and cunning.

He gazed up at the sun that was sitting comfortably high up in the sky. The day was warmer than it had been since they left home. But it would grow rapidly cold and dark soon. They must cross the bridge before nightfall.

Kylan had fallen behind, coughing and grimacing.

“Hand me your knapsack,” Adrian said.

“No, it is all right. I can carry it.” The boy did not want to seem weak. Adrian respected that. It was a quality of a warrior. So, not to wound the boy’s pride, he allowed Kylan to continue carrying it until he was ready to admit that he needed a rest.

“Hey, Father?” the boy called at length, jumping over a rabbit hole. “How do you we are going the right way?”

Adrian decided to answer that because it was an important lesson. “I let the sun guide me. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. We are heading east.”

He pointed up at the sky where the sun shone bright like a golden medallion. “Oh,” said Kylan. “I guess that makes sense.” He leaped over another rabbit hole and giggled tiredly. “The mountains are due east.”

“Correct,” Adrian said gruffly.

“You have been to the mountains before then.”

Adrian did not answer that question.

“Father,” the boy called again. “Why… are we going to the mountains?”

Adrian remained silent, listening to the boy’s laboured breathing. They would need to stop and rest soon.

“You won’t tell me,” Kylan sighed. “Understood.”

He clutched his arms around his stomach then when it grumbled loudly. Adrian arched an eyebrow at him.

“I’m a little hungry,” the boy admitted embarrassedly.

“Sit,” Adrian said, coming to a stop.

Kylan was happy to oblige as he quickly took a seat under a tree and set his things aside, stretching his arms over his head. Adrian handed him a strip of dried and salted deer meat.

Accepting it, the boy held it with both hands and ate quietly, taking small, shy bites. Then glancing up at Adrian again, he said, “Aren’t you eating?”

Adrian sat down on the ground and shook his head. He said nothing more. They must save whatever supply they could. Adrian could go longer without nourishments, but the boy needed to eat to keep his energy up.

Once he was done eating, Adrian held the waterskin out to him. Taking it in his small hands, the boy struggled to take a few gulps without spilling the water. He then returned the waterskin back to his father and rose to his feet.

“I’m ready to go now.”

“Rest a bit more,” Adrian told him. “We will not be stopping again until nightfall.”

Frowning, Kylan sank back in his seat. After only a few minutes, he started picking at the grass around him restlessly. Then rummaging through his knapsack, he fished out his wooden figurine and grinned at it playfully.

Adrian hated the sight of it. It reminded him of… events he wished to forget. Perhaps he never should have given it to the boy. But as a baby, it was the only thing that helped Kylan sleep at night. That and Adrian’s warm embrace. Only one of the two stayed with the boy as he grew up.

“Father,” Kylan said, breaking the silence between them after a while. Adrian recognized the boy’s curious look all too well. “Why did… Mother leave me this?”

For the reason that the answer would not help the boy on this journey or his survival, Adrian decided not to answer the question. “We ought to get a move on now,” he said instead and rose.

Frowning, Kylan rose with him.

As they started walking again, he heard the boy huff exasperatedly behind him. That was new. Adrian fought the urge to ask him if something was bothering him.

The boy must learn not to linger over trivial matters, for that his life would be filled with bigger threats and horrors as he grew. So, Adrian never indulged his son. It would toughen him up.

Or perhaps it was simply an excuse for Adrian’s lack of natural facility for child-rearing. He did not much about it because he grew up without a father or a mother. He grew up in the midst of wars and famines.

Kylan might not have grown up the way Adrian had, but it was why he must train harder to be able to face the fate that awaited him.

Adrian briefly glanced to his son when they fell next to each other. The deep, long, faint red scar that ran along the boy’s left cheek was prominent. Once, Kylan had sorrowfully as him if the scar made him ugly. If it would frighten the others. If he were an ugly boy.

Adrian had, in response, had said, _“Scars are laurels of victory and honour for warriors. So, wear them with pride.”_

Except that Kylan had not fought in any war to earn that scar. He was born with it.

Adrian’s body, on the other hand, was besmeared in scars. Wounds he could heal, but they always left unsightly scars behind. He never dared reveal them to the boy. It would undoubtedly raise too many questions that he was not ready to answer. It would alarm the boy, seed awful thoughts in his head. Some curiosities were better left uninvoked.

They had travelled far enough from home now. Adrian no longer heard the beating current of the river. He no longer smelled the worn wood he had built the house with.

Their journey had begun.

It would be the most important journey of their lives. Little did he know then that this was not only a journey for a boy to find the equilibrium within himself, but it was also a journey for a father to find his redemption.

If they returned home, neither of them would be the same person they had been when they set on this journey.

* * *

# Quest Two

**The Bridge.**

The copses were thinning with each step they advanced. Ahead, Adrian could already spy the mounts of rock and moss. The path had not changed much in the last nine years. But it had changed nevertheless. Less travellers frequented this path. Less people roved around the realm unnecessarily. Adrian wondered why.

He had not left home or the woods in a very long time. He had needed to stay close to Kylan. Though he was not sure what sort of perils and threats lay ahead, he knew that it was nothing good that would make their journey any easier. He could feel it. The farther they wandered away from their home, the thicker the air became, the colder the winds grew, the eerier the atmosphere turned.

“How do you know which way to go at night?” Kylan asked, gazing up at the swiftly darkening sky as the sun began to set in the horizon.

“I read the stars and let them navigate me,” Adrian answered brusquely.

“How do you… read the stars?” the boy inquired with a strained confusion.

“We look to the northern sky and begin with the _Plough_.” Adrian pointed at the star cluster. “Do you see the arcing line of three stars that is connected to the four that make a rectangle?”

Kylan took a moment to find the cluster and understand its shape. Once he managed to do so, he nodded excitedly. “It looks more like a pitcher.”

“We called it the _Plough_ where I’m from,” Adrian sighed.

“Where are you from?”

Adrian clenched his jaw. “That is a subject for another day.”

The boy sighed, knowing that it was not a question his father would answer. “I would like to know more about the stars. I wish I had some books on them.”

“If a book merchant comes our way,” he said. “I will get you some.”

Kylan blinked. “But you do not like me reading.”

“That is not true, boy,” Adrian spat. “I do not encourage fairy-tales and fables. Learning the ways of the world will train you in dialectics and reasoning. Knowing how to read the stars will help you navigate yourself in the night, especially at sea. Fairy-tales won’t.”

Kylan hung his head.

The books they had back home were the ones Adrian had gotten from book merchants that had travelled past the house. They were children’s books, which he had hoped to help Kylan learn how to read when he was younger. But now that he could read and understand with great aptitude, it was about time the boy traded those kiddie fairy-tales for passages with more lucrative information.

“ I will teach you how to read them,” Adrian said at length. “One day.”

The boy did not reply to that. He still seemed upset about Adrian calling his favourite books useless.

They must be close to the bridge because Adrian could feel the air closing in on them. Kylan could now see the mounts of rock that stood on either side on the edge of the cliff, too.

And as they emerged from the last of the trees, the bridge finally came into view.

The boy gasped. “Is that a… _bridge_?”

“Yes,” Adrian muttered. “We will cross it to get to other side.”

The moonlit evening brightened their path. When they reached the bridge, Adrian briefly scrutinized it. It had a divider in the middle, a raised platform of ground. On the other side of it, the rest of the bridge would lead them into the woods again.

“Come,” Adrian told Kylan, ushering him toward the bridge.

The boy, with a worried frown etched on his brows, stepped in front of Adrian. “I have never crossed a bridge before. It looks… shaky.”

“It is safe. Do not be afraid,” Adrian reassured him.

Kylan sucked in a deep breath and nodded before taking a cautious step onto the bridge. The wooden boards creaked menacingly. “It _is_ shaky. But I am not afraid.”

Grabbing onto the ropes that railed the sides of the bridge, Kylan slowly advanced forward. Adrian followed the boy closely.

“Hey, this isn’t so bad!” Kylan exclaimed, laughing.

Adrian wanted to chide him and urge him to be quiet, but he was taken aback as the boy sprung forward, skipping over the boards of the bridge.

“Boy!” Adrian growled.

Kylan turned around to face him with a playful grin. “I am not afraid, Father!” he announced. Holding onto the ropes, he then vaulted off the bridge and jumped. “See!”

“Stop that right now!” Adrian commanded, grabbing the rope on one side of the bridge as it began to quake under him.

“Are _you_ afraid, Father?” Kylan chuckled and hopped on the bridge again. Snarling, Adrian was about to lunge at the boy to stop him when the boards Kylan was jumping on cracked and gave way.

“Kylan!” he roared, his heart almost falling out of his chest, as the bridge collapsed where the boy was standing. He watched the boy slipped right through.

“Father!” he cried, clinging onto the broken boards.

“Hang on!” Adrian rushed forward at once and dropped to his knees, hands immediately reaching for the boy’s arms. He saw both terror and shock in Kylan’s limpid eyes. “I’ve got you, boy,” he said, panting as he secured his son’s arms in his grip.

As he hauled Kylan up, the boy frantically grasped at Adrian’s shirt and cloak.

“What were you thinking?!” Adrian shouted at him without releasing his arms.

Kylan’s eyes were brimming with tears. “I-I’m sorry, Father.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Adrian growled at him. “Be smarter!”

The boy winced at Adrian’s brutal grip on his arms.

“You disobeyed me and almost killed yourself!”

Kylan nodded his hanging head, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Huffing heavily, Adrian finally let go of the boy. “Repeat this and you will pay for your mischief, boy.”

“I understand, Father,” the boy said, voice breaking. As he wiped his tear, he raised his head and froze abruptly, staring unblinkingly over Adrian’s shoulder. “Father,” he whispered then. “I saw something move… between those trees there.”

Adrian clenched his jaw, calming his breathing for a moment, before he turned his head around and glanced at the trees on the other side of the bridge. His narrowed eyes caught the moving shadows in the trees.

Rising back to his feet, he gently pushed Kylan back. “Get behind me,” he said in a low voice, removing his knapsack. Setting it down on the bridge, he then retrieved the tomahawk from his belt and flipped it in his hand, eyes focused on the snarling two-legged creatures that were lurking in the trees.

Kylan grabbed his bow and nocked an arrow without Adrian having to order him. Good. The boy’s survival instincts were not a completely lost cause then.

The moon shed its light on the dark creatures that stepped out of the trees, illuminating the horror they were. They snarled and growled, slowly advancing toward the bridge. In their hands, they gripped swords made from tree barks and stone. They were nothing but rotting grey flesh and bones. But deadly all the same.

Kylan gasped quietly. “Wh-What are they?”

“Dreygurs,” Adrian let out. Why were Dreygurs roaming this realm? Whence did they come? How? Who had raised the dead?

“What are… Dreygurs?”

“Dead men,” Adrian replied.

He could hear Kylan gulping behind him. “They don’t look very dead to me.”

Adrian scowled at the dreadful creatures that were crossing the other half of the bridge. They then gathered on the platform between the two sections of the bridge, not willing to go any further.

“Do we head back?” the boy asked.

Grinding his teeth, Adrian said, “No. We must keep pressing forward.”

“They look angry. And… scary.”

Adrian’s hand tightened around the grip of his axe. “They are not crossing this bridge. You will stay here.”

“But I want to help.”

“Stay,” Adrian ordered strictly and started toward the Again-Walkers. They readied themselves eagerly. There were five of them. Though Adrian was outnumbered, they were still only undead men. Strong, but slow.

As he neared them, he smelled the stench of decay. The Dreygurs straightened up, brandishing their makeshift swords in Adrian’s way. What had happened in the last nine years that could have raised the dead to roam the realm? Adrian had known that the journey would not be made easy, but he had not imagined that it would be on the account of the Again-Walkers.

Beyond this bridge, what other horrors awaited them?

“Father,” he heard the boy call after him in a worried whisper.

The Dreygurs charged forward as soon as Adrian stepped onto the platform. The horrid noises that broke from their throats broke all the silence of the night. They screeched and squawked, careering at him at full force.

Adrian’s chest heaved as he planted his feet firmly into the solid ground, hand wound tightly around his tomahawk. As one of the Dreygurs lunged at him, he raised the weapon in his hand and plunged the axe head into a side of the Dreygur’s neck, beheading it with a single strike. He wasted no time in watching the headless creature teeter over the edge of the platform and broke into sprint toward another. He roared as he wrapped a hand around the Dreygur’s neck before lifting it and slamming it down on the ground. While crushing its skull into smithereens under a booted foot, he drove the tomahawk into another Dreygur’s head. Yanking the axe back, he then stomped on a Dreygur’s chest to knock it off the platform. It screeched as it fell to its end.

Adrian flinched when an arrow shot past him, plunging into the eye socket of the last remaining Dreygur that was too close amd ready to put its sword on Adrian’s back. Flipping the tomahawk in his hand, Adrian then flung it in the direction of the Dreygur’s head. As it dropped to the ground, dead at last, he marched over to it and retrieved the axe from its head with a forceful tug.

He stopped to survey the dead Dreygurs on the ground, making sure that they were dead for good this time.

Then panting, he turned around and walked back to Kylan, who was gawking at him with wide, shocked eyes and an open mouth. The bow was idle in his hand now.

“Father,” he rasped as Adrian picked up the knapsack from the bridge and slung it over his shoulders. “You were… awesome!”

Adrian made a face at the boy. “What?”

Kylan started grinning like an excited little child, who had been given all the sweetmeats he could eat. “You were awesome! Where did you learn how to fight like that?!”

Adrian almost smirked, but he did not. “Do you want to learn to fight like that?”

The boy nodded his head eagerly. He did not even seem to be much bothered about the fact that they had just been ambushed by living corpses.

“Boy,” Adrian said, dropping to a crouch so that he could meet Kylan’s eyes. “Do you see now what I mean by threats and dangers we will meet along the way?”

Kylan’s brows furrowed into a frown then. He bowed his head. “What were those… things? How could they be dead men when they were… alive?”

“I am not certain how they came to be,” admitted Adrian. “And _that_ is not our concern. We will slay anyone or anything that stands in our way. Do you understand me?”

The boy nodded his head again. “Yes, Father.”

Adrian rose back and started making his way past the rest of the bridge. On his way, he yanked the arrow out of the dead Dreygur’s head and handed it back to Kylan to be put in his quiver.

“You had acted fast,” he told his son. Taking hold of the arrow, the boy looked up at him with stars in his eyes. He looked both surprised and confused. “That deserves merit.”

“Are you… praising me, Father?”

Adrian did not answer as he started toward the woods that stood on the other side of the bridge.

* * *

Kylan did not know what to make of the creatures that had attacked them at the bridge last night. Nor did he know what to make of the strange feeling that had overwhelmed him as soon as he followed his father into the woods he had never been in before.

The trees looked different. They were taller and thinner on this side of the bridge. Their branches ruffled against one another as though they were talking to each other. It was a ridiculous thought. Trees could not talk. But then again, before last night, Kylan had not known dead men could come back to life either.

There was something macabre and strange about these woods. It both worried and excited him.

The sun was starting to come up. They had made a few stops to rest over the course of the night, so that Kylan could catch a few winks while his father stayed up and vigilant. They never remained in one place for too long.

The sun was starting to come up, but its rays did little to keep Kylan warm. It was considerably colder in these woods.

“What is that smell?” Kylan asked after many hours of silence between them. “It is… awful.”

His father looked alert, in spite of not having slept all night. “It could be more Again-Walkers.”

“Again-Walkers?”

“Dreygurs. They have many names. Pale Ones, The Cursed Living, Drög. They are strong but significantly slow. Most of them do not come back when they are struck down.”

Kylan scratched the back of his head. “How do you know so much about them? Have you… encountered one before?”

It took his father a moment to respond. But he eventually did nod.

“What if we see more of them on our journey?” Kylan then asked. “Do we fight?”

His father nodded once more. “We will fight.”

“Even if we don’t have to?”

“We will, nevertheless. It will be good practice. For you.”

Kylan chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “Father?” he called after a few seconds. His father did not respond as he kept trudging onwards, gaze fixed on the path ahead. “You never… said how you learned to fight like that or… how you know so much about the… Again-Walkers.”

“Would acquiring that information help you on our journey?” asked his father sternly.

Kylan sighed. “I… don’t know. Perhaps not. But I feel like… I don’t know enough about you, even though I have been with you my whole life.”

He saw his father’s jaw tightened, but the man said nothing more. Exhaling another heavy breath, Kylan hung his head.

When they stopped again, they ate some packed stale bread and salted deer meat. Kylan settled his head on his knapsack and laid down for a moment.

His father seemed to be lost in his own thoughts as he sharpened his tomahawk with a whetstone. Where was he from? Kylan had never been so curious about the man’s past than he was now. How could his father think that Kylan knowing more about him would not be beneficial? Perhaps not for this journey, but for their relationship. But then again, his father did not care for their relationship.

* * *

There was so much that he wished he could tell his son. But he could not. And this was certainly not the time for it. They had far more pressing matters at hand.

Two days and they had barely ventured into the first part of the woods. They already been attacked by a group of Dreygurs. Adrian knew that it would only get harder from hereon.

He gazed up at the morning sky and squinted at the sun, which was soon shrouded by a billow of clouds. Then looking over to the boy who had dozed off, Adrian frowned.

Kylan’s complexion was paler than it had been when they left home. No amount of rest was going to help him. The only way to save the boy before his seventh winter was to get him to the mountains as soon as possible.

Adrian was determined to raze down absolutely anything to get the boy there. Be it wild animals, Dreygurs or worse.

“Boy,” he called, crouching before Kylan. Taking the boy’s shoulder in a hand, he lightly shook him awake.

Kylan stirred and mumbled sleepily before he cracked an eye open to look at Adrian. “Did I… fall asleep? I’m sorry, Father.”

“Hmm.” Adrian stood up and waited for the boy to recompose himself. “We must keep moving. The days are getting shorter.”

“Yes, Father.”

Once the boy was ready again, they proceeded on the rough path. The daylight made it easier to avoid the protruding roots that had been tripping Kylan relentlessly during the night.

“Father?” the boy called after a moment, his voice still thick with sleep. “Do you hear that, too?”

Adrian arched an eyebrow at him. “Hear what?”

Kylan scratched his head. “The… trees. It’s like… they are murmuring to each other.”

Adrian was silent for a moment. These woods had always been infused with a strange luridness that could run one’s blood cold.

“No,” he answered at length. “I do not hear that.”

“Oh.” The boy glanced up at the trees and sighed. “It is probably in my head.”

Adrian said nothing to that. They trekked through the woods until midday and the sun was gleaming its brightest high up in the sky. Adrian noticed that the copses of trees were growing thin.

“Stay alert,” he told Kylan. The boy bowed his head, hand curling around the bowstring across his chest.

A human settlement eventually came into sight. Adrian told the boy to stay behind him as he advanced towards the huts that probably belonged to hunters.

“Abandoned,” he noted, pushing a hut’s door open. By the looks of it, it must have been abandoned quite a while ago.

“What… are you doing?” the boy inquired cynically as Adrian barged into the hut and started scavenging through the trunks and chests.

“I am gathering useful resources,” he said dully. He found a pouch of coins and a pack of dried figs. There was nothing else in the hut that would help them on their journey.

“What if the people come back?”

“They will not,” Adrian said.

“How can you be sure? Everyone must come home eventually.”

Adrian shook his head. “Something has happened here.” He then started for the next hut, which was just as abandoned as the previous one. He pointed to the ground. “Look at the dirt. No one has stepped on it in at least weeks. It is solid and flat. The people who must have lived here had either fled for good or… they were taken. Possibly killed.”

The boy’s face paled even more. “Do you… think it could have been the Dreygurs?”

“I would not be surprised if it were.” Adrian proceeded into another hut to retrieve a few coin pouches. He even found a decent skinning knife. “Here.”

Accepting the knife, Kylan eyeballed it for a moment. “I already have a dagger.”

“It will not hurt to have a spare.”

Nodding, the boy stuffed the knife into his knapsack. “So… You believe it is okay to steal from someone else’s home?”

Adrian turned to the boy with a scowl. “That is not the lesson I am teaching you.”

Kylan tried to hide a cheeky grin. Adrian’s scowl hardened. “Well, you are stealing from someone else’s home. Should I not follow in your footsteps? You want me to be like you.”

Adrian sighed then. “No,” he said. The boy’s amusement turned to confusion instantly. Turning his back to Kylan, Adrian then said, “I want you to be better.”

The boy seemed to be ruminating over that statement for a while as Adrian moved onto the next hut. It was the truth. It might be the only the truth that mattered. All sons should be better than their fathers. None should bear the sins of their fathers. Adrian hoped that it was not too late for the boy yet.

As he approached another hut, something pungent in the air stung his nose. Adrian slowed in his tracks, eyes narrowing at the hut. He smelled the familiar stench of decay once more.

“Boy,” Adrian called under his breath, holding a hand out to signal the boy to stay behind him.

As he slowly reached for his tomahawk, keeping his eyes and attention strained on the hut, he cautiously approached the hut. With every step advanced, the pungent stench grew stronger. Adrian gritted his teeth, hand tightening around the grip of the axe.

That was when the hut’s door was ran through by the Dreygur, that shattered the wooden door into barks and splinters. Adrian heard his son gasp at his back as the Dreygur charged forward. It was unarmed, and it bore a darker complexion compared to the ones they had encountered at the bridge.

Its hands nearly caught Adrian’s neck before Adrian raised a boot and stomped on its chest, sending it flying back toward the hut. Before it could scramble back up to its feet, Adrian swung the tomahawk and beheaded it.

As it writhed to its death, Adrian sucked in a deep breath and glanced back at Kylan, who was gawking in fright.

“Are you all right?” Adrian asked, even though he knew that the boy was unharmed.

Kylan took a moment to respond, but he did nod his head shakily eventually. “They just… look much more terrifying in the light.”

Adrian gave the dead Dreygur one last look before he wended his way into the hut and retrieved another pouch of coins.

“Let’s get moving,” he then told Kylan and marched towards the trees again. The boy had a hard time taking his eyes off the dead Dreygur as he quietly followed behind his father.

* * *

“Father,” Kylan called after a long while of silent brooding. “Is it normal for dead men to come back to life?”

“No,” Adrian answered. “It has never been common in this realm.”

“In this realm? Are there… other realms that you know?”

“A few,” was the curt answer.

Adrian expected more questions, but the boy was promptly distracted by the chirping, screeching bird on their path.

“Oh, no!” Kylan rasped and rushed to the baby bird. Its feathers were brown, flecked with yellow dots. “Father, it must have fallen from its nest.”

Adrian arched an eyebrow at his son, who looked devastated as he dropped to his knees and carefully scooped the bird up in his hands.

“There, there, little one,” Kylan whispered, as though he were singing a lullaby to the baby bird.

Adrian scowled. “Kylan, we must go.”

The boy rose to his feet, cupping the bird gently in his hands, as he turned to face his father with a sad frown. “But we must return him to his nest.”

“Him?” Adrian’s scowl deepened. “How can you tell?”

Kylan shrugged. “I just can.”

“You just… can?”

The boy did not reply as he glanced up the tree. “There,” he gasped. “There is the nest. But it is too high up for me to reach.”

“I am not wasting my time returning that bird to its nest!” Adrian growled and started walking again. “Now, come.”

“No!” Kylan protested. Halting in his tracks, Adrian turned around to pin the boy with a hard glower.

“You will not disobey me, boy.”

“I am not… disobeying you,” Kylan murmured then, eyebrows dipped low. “But… it won’t take you two seconds to put him back in his nest. I am too short, Father.”

He looked and sounded sad as he said it, as though the fact that he was short added to his disappointment and shame.

“He won’t be able to feed on his own,” the boy then added in a sombre tone.

Clenching his hands, Adrian stomped back to Kylan and glared the baby bird down severely. “If we stop to take pity on every helpless creature, we will never make it to the mountains in time. You must close your heart to it, Kylan.”

“And be a heartless person like you?”

As soon as the words had slipped out of his mouth, the boy snapped it shut tightly and looked up at Adrian with wide, shocked eyes. Adrian, himself, was quite shocked by that remark.

Even though there wasn’t a single lie in that statement, Adrian divagated and stared at his son for a long minute. Kylan wrapped his hands securely around the bird and brought it close to his chest, as though to protect it from whatever Adrian might do to it in fitting rage.

But Adrian drew a breath instead and said, “You are wrong.” He held a hand out, demanding for the boy to hand the bird over. Kylan hesitated. He took one more look at the baby bird before he finally placed it in Adrian’s hand.

Turning to the tree, Adrian reached up and replaced the bird in the nest that was teeming with other small, loudly chirping birds. Then he turned to face his son again.

“I am not a heartless person,” he said. Kylan blinked apologetically. Then through his clenched teeth, Adrian added, “I am far worse than that. I am a heartless… monster.”

The boy’s eyes ballooned. Adrian did not tend to any of the doubts the boy might still harbour and turned on his heel to resume their journey.

* * *

# Quest Three

**Fox Hunting.**

Kylan did not talk to his father for hours. He was not sure what to say, even though he had plenty of questions. He knew that he had angered his father by that unwise remark. And he was puzzled by his father’s response to that. But most of all, he was just tired.

He dragged himself behind his father without much desire to keep going on this footslog. He could see the moon and some stars when he looked up at the evening sky. They had not stopped to rest, and Kylan figured it was his father’s way of punishing him.

It was a punishment Kylan deserved. He never should have called the man heartless. He had not meant it. And he felt terrible about it. Part of him just wanted to stop, fall to the ground and sob because of the horrible thing he had said to his father.

In spite of everything, in spite of how his father treated him, Kylan did not want to upset his father. No child, especially one as young as Kylan, wanted to make their parents sad, did they?

He should apologize, but his father refused to even look at him. He would slow down every now and then to let Kylan catch up with him, but he never stopped to look back. When Kylan’s stomach grumbled, he held out the heel of some stale bread without sparing the boy a glimpse.

Kylan deserved it. It was wrong of him to talk that way to his father. He understood why he needed to be punished. However, his father’s silence was suddenly too much for him to bear, because now he knew, for certain, that his father had a reason to hate him.

He wiped a tear that rolled down his cheek. Perhaps he should just run into these trees and get as far away as he could from his father. Perhaps a Dreygur or a wild animal would maul him to death. Then his father would not have to bear this burden. He would be rid of Kylan.

Kylan glanced at the darkness that roved between the trees and shuddered. He thought of the Dreygur that had ambushed them at the huts. It had looked nasty and ghastly in the light of day.

When he tripped and fell for the third time, his father finally turned to him and said, “We will rest here tonight.”

As the dark rapidly began to descend, his father hurriedly pitched the small tent that would only fit Kylan.

“What about you?” he asked his father, looking up at the tall man with glistening eyes.

“I have slept on rougher and riskier terrains,” his father answered gruffly.

Kylan bowed his head and crawled into the tent. Settling down on the blanket, he glanced at his father who was taking his seat under a tree. “Father,” he called quietly.

His father lifted his sharp gaze.

“I… am sorry,” Kylan muttered. “for what I said earlier. I… do not… really believe that you are heartless.”

His father’s eyes narrowed, and his brows furrowed deeply, but he did not say anything as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree.

With a familiar ache in his chest, Kylan settled his head on the ground and cried himself to sleep. Only Kylan could find a million different ways to disappoint his father apparently. He would never do the right thing. He would never be the son his father wanted him to be. He was not even sure that his father wanted a son at all.

When he woke again, it was to the gently stinging rays of sunlight that poked through the canopy of the trees. The tent was gone. Kylan sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily before he glanced up at his father, who was shoving the rumpled tent canvas into the knapsack.

“Here,” said the man, handing Kylan one of the waterskins. It had about two gulps of water left. “Wash up. We must keep going.”

Kylan scrubbed his teeth clean with a rag and some water before he picked up his own knapsack, bow and quiver, and readied himself to continue on their journey, which had already exhausted him, and it had barely even begun.

He tried to find signs of disapproval on his father’s face, but he saw nothing but the same indifference. Perhaps the man had forgiven Kylan for yesterday’s debacle.

“Are you hungry?” his father inquired. There was an edge to his tone, as though he were expecting Kylan to say yes.

Kylan nodded his head. “A little.”

“Good,” said the man. “We will hunt for our next meal.”

Kylan blinked as his father turned around and started walking away. Hurrying after him, he asked, “What do you mean?”

“Unless you bag a good kill, we will not eat anything today.”

It was a lesson, Kylan could tell. His father’s tone and stance said it all. He was about to teach Kylan a lesson.

“Me?” said Kylan, anyway.

“Yes, you.”

Even though Kylan was already overwrought about disappointing his father yet again, he was still as excited as he always was about hunting. He loved the way blood coursed through his veins, the way his heart pounded in his chest when he was drawing the bowstring, the way his breath struggled to stay steady as he fixed his aim on a target. Everything about hunting thrilled him. Except the killing part.

He had never been a big fan of murdering innocent animals. Or just animals in general. They were all innocent in his eyes. Even the bear that had broken into their home that night.

But his father was so comfortable with hunting and killing. He could execute both flawlessly and effortlessly in his sleep. Kylan supposed the man had ‘closed his heart to it.’ A little too much.

“What if I miss?” he asked a while later.

“I suggest that you do _not_ miss,” said his father sternly. “if you do not wish to starve us for the rest of the day.”

Kylan gnawed at his lower lip. “I will try my best, Father.”

“Then we best hope your best is good enough.”

Kylan wondered if other men in the world also talked the way his father always did. With a thought and a lesson in every single one of his statements. Everything he said gave Kylan something to think about.

“What are we hunting, Father?” he asked at length.

The man did not answer for a long moment. Then he came to a sudden halt, forcing Kylan to a stop as well. Looking past him, Kylan spied the trees with the white boles and fiery red leaves. They looked magical. Kylan could not help but gawk at them in awe and wonder. The crimson leaves on the branches rustled against each other, as though they were whispering the forest’s secrets. They were shorter than the trees that preceded them, that hid the bright, awestriking red thicket of trees.

“Come,” Kylan heard his father say.

“What is this place, Father?” Kylan asked in a low breath.

“I do not know,” said the man. “I do not… remember this part of the woods.”

“Do you think it is safe?”

“Only one way to find out.”

They started advancing toward the red-leafed trees. The wind smelled crispier, almost sweeter. There was something about this part of the forest. Something magical, something mystical. Kylan did not know how he knew, but he could feel the magic in his bones. It was the good kind. Not the horror he had felt back at the bridge and ever since.

The bark and trunk of the trees were as white as snow, in complete contrast to their vivid scarlet leaves. Kylan heard the fowls sing in the distance.

As they walked past the white trees, Kylan noticed that the grass beneath his feet was greener and denser.

He gasped when he heard a strange squeak before he heard a rustle in the undergrowth around him. “What was that?!”

His father placed a hand on his shoulder and pointed at the furry, orange creature that was crawling through the undergrowth. “It is a fox.”

Kylan’s eyes widened. He had never seen a fox before. As it emerged from the grass, it sniffed around, sticking its black nose out. Its bushy tail was wagging. It resembled a small dog.

“It’s cute,” Kylan murmured, grinning.

His father arched an eyebrow down at him. “Well, it is now your target.”

Blinking, Kylan’s jaw fell slack. He glanced to the fox once again and frowned. “But…”

“Get your bow and nock your arrow, boy.”

Kylan did as he was told. He lowered himself to the ground, hiding behind the tall shrubbery, and nocked an arrow. The fox had noticed the presence of the intruders, but it was not doing anything to flee. It was as though it were unaware of the fact that it was being hunted and was about to be killed. It calmly prowled through the grass, squeaking occasionally without minding Kylan or his father.

“Father,” Kylan whispered, looking up at the man sadly.

His father dropped to a crouch at his side and placed a steady hand on his arm. “Take your shot when you think you are ready.”

Kylan turned his attention back to the small, brown animal. He hesitated. He tried to focus on keeping his fingers from losing their grip around the bowstring and the feathered vanes of the arrow. His eyes narrowed on the lazily crawling fox.

“Kylan,” he heard his father say in a disapproving tone.

Sucking in a breath, Kylan drew the bowstring as tightly as his arms could manage and took his aim. With a great deal of reluctance, he released the arrow, which darted through the fox’s pelt and took the animal down with a shriek.

Kylan clenched his watery eyes for a moment and tried to compose himself. He had done it. He had shot the fox. He had not floundered.

“That was a clean shot,” his father said. Kylan opened his eyes again to see if the man was proud. He saw no sign of pride in his father’s expression whatsoever. He was as stoic as ever.

Rising back to his full height, the man walked over to the felled fox. Kylan reluctantly followed.

The fox was dead. It brought Kylan some relief, because he knew that he would have broken into tears if he had had to see the fox still struggling for its life after being wounded. Blood soaked the brown pelt where the arrow was plunged in. Kylan watched his father yank the arrow out of the dead fox’s flesh.

“Now, we will build a small fire,” said the man, picking the fox up by its tail. “You must sharpen that arrowhead.”

Kylan grimaced at the splotches of blood on the arrow his father handed him. “Yes, Father.”

* * *

The boy had been keeping his thoughts to himself for a while now. Something about killing the fox had put the boy off. Adrian sighed, mulling over Kylan’s palpable discomfort when it came to killing.

He knew that the boy was far from ready. But unless he quickly learned the fact that he would not be able to survive in this realm without killing, this journey would not be successful. Adrian could only protect the boy so much. Kylan must learn to fend for himself. He must understand that he had to kill his enemies before they could kill him.

Still, he was still far too young for any of this.

Adrian wished that things were different. That the poor boy had had more time to prepare himself.

Kylan coughed a few times while he watched Adrian make a fire to cook the fox over. Once he had a weak fire going on, Adrian turned to the dead fox.

“Your skinning knife,” he said to his son.

Kylan fumbled for the knife in his tiny boot and walked over to Adrian, holding the knife out.

Taking the knife, Adrian dropped to his knees and grabbed the fox. “You start at the belly,” he said, piercing the tip of the blade into the pelt.

“No,” Kylan mewled out. Adrian blinked at the boy, who looked like he was about to get sick.

Exhaling heavily, Adrian rose to his feet again. “Why don’t you gather some twigs and dried leaves for the fire? Do not wander too far away.”

The boy nodded and wiped his eyes before he turned around and hurried away, looking for twigs and leaves in the undergrowth.

Adrian returned to the fox. He should not have gone easy on the boy. Not when the world was far gorier and scarier than skinning a red fox. But he supposed the boy was having a hard time as it was. Perhaps letting this one slide would not be so bad.

He tossed the pelt aside once he was done skinning the animal. He quickly looked through his knapsack for the waterskins. There was not much water left, but they should soon reach a stream of clean water since there were mountains and hills nearby.

However, Adrian was not sure anymore. He had not known that Dreygurs walked the realm now. He most certainly did not recall having traversed these red-and-white woods. The air here was thick with foul play. No doubt it was a witch’s work. There was magic in the wind, the grass, the soil, the trees. It was not the kind that made Adrian nervous, so he did not think that it was dangerous to be here. Nevertheless, he decided to be vigilant and alert at all times. They could never be too careful, could they? Especially when this place reeked of witchcraft.

Taking hold of the fox’s hindlegs, Adrian lifted it from the ground and started toward the fire. “Have you gathered enough leaves?” he asked.

When he received no reply, he stopped to glance around him. Adrian felt his blood run ice cold when he could not spot his son for as far as his vision could stretch.

“Boy?” he called, eyebrows furrowing deeply as his heart began to thunder in his chest. “Boy!”

Dropping the fox, Adrian broke into a sprint toward the trees in a frenzy. His breathing quickened while blood pulsed viciously in his temples.

“Kylan!” he cried at the top of his lungs, charging past the trees. For the first time since the bear had broken into their home and almost attacked Kylan in his sleep, Adrian felt a very real fright course through his body. Fear tightened around his throat like the bony fingers of death. “Kylan! Where are you?!”

There weren’t many things that frightened Adrian. He was not afraid of anything. Not until he became a father.

Worry and dread made it difficult for him to breathe as he shot through the woods, searching for signs of the boy.

“Kylan!”

“Father!” he then heard the boy’s voice in the distance as a faint echo.

Halting to an abrupt stop, Adrian gasped for air and glanced to his left from where he heard his son’s cry. With his heart in pounding in his throat, Adrian turned and sped between the trees, galloping as swiftly as his legs would take him.

“I’m coming!” he roared, breaking every drop of silence in the woods. “Kylan! Call out to me!”

“Father!”

Adrian stopped for a split second and took a right, racing through the red-and-white forest again. “Call out to me, boy!”

“I’m over here, Father!” he heard the boy’s voice boom past the trees.

“I’m coming, Kylan!” As he vaulted over a fallen tree, he retrieved the tomahawk and gripped it tightly in his hand, charging through the woods like a raging beast.

For the first time in a very, very long time, he felt the fire surge through his veins, all the way from the tip of his head to the toes of his feet. He could feel the blazing heat pour out of the sockets of his eyes. His skin felt as though it were set aflame. A firestorm swelled in his lungs, lighting every inch of him on fire.

He swore to himself, in that instant, that he would not spare anyone or anything in this realm if his son were harmed.

He’d wreak havoc, for one last time, and destroy it all.

But as he emerged from the thick copse of trees, he jerked to a halt, the fire within him stamped out, as he gawked at the vast lowland of woody lianas, covered in thorns. There was no path for Adrian to walk on to be able to get through the expanse of thorny lianas. Something about this did not seem right to him.

“Father!” he then heard Kylan cry from another end of the tricky expanse. Adrian frantically searched for the sight of his son. When he finally found the boy, caught in the lianas, he wasted no time in putting his tomahawk to use.

As he hacked his way through the lianas, he looked up at Kylan, who was staring at him both worriedly and confusedly. He did not look afraid, though.

The closer Adrian got, the more he could see that the boy’s arms were caught in the lianas, which were coiled around his limbs as if they intended to hold the boy captive.

“Father,” Kylan called while Adrian ferociously chopped down the lianas on his path with the axe in one hand. With his other bare hand, he ripped the lianas apart. “I don’t know what happened, Father.”

“I told you not to wander too far away!” Adrian roared, but his heart was no longer pounding in dread.

“I didn’t!” Kylan then said, struggling to break free from the lianas. “I was dragged here, Father!”

Adrian paused for a moment, staring ahead at his son. “What?”

“I was just looking for sticks, and I felt something curl around my leg. I was dragged out here by… these vines!”

The boy was not lying. He never lied. Adrian felt the blood drain from his face for a moment as he felt the air shift around him. The eeriness the wind carried suddenly made Adrian’s nerves jump.

It was not Dreygurs. It did not smell like rotten flesh. Quite the contrary, actually. It smelled like rain-kissed loam and newly budding flowers of spring. But the atmosphere was so thick with the scent that Adrian knew that whatever that was lurking about was no better than Dreygurs.

“Stay calm, boy,” he told Kylan. “I will get you out of here.”

Kylan nodded, frowning at the lianas that were coiled around his arms and legs. “Quickly, Father.”

As Adrian started moving forward again, he felt the lianas snake closer around his feet, rendering the path more difficult to travel across.

“Father!” Kylan screeched all of a sudden. “Behind you!”

Adrian gyrated around to face the woody vines that were climbing the air, grappling onto nothing but the wind. Gritting his teeth, Adrian flipped the axe in his hand and readied himself to fight whatever that was about to attack him.

He glanced back at Kylan once to make sure that the boy was still unharmed. Then looking back to the monstrous lianas, he steadied his breathing. He had never fought fucking enchanted lianas, but he doubted that they could be any harder than fighting a group of gods.

Just as he began to lift the tomahawk, the lianas began to slide to the sides, as though to make way in the middle. Blinking, Adrian arched a curious brow. He was rarely curious about anything anymore, but it had been a while since he had encountered such mysticism that it had left him agog.

As the lianas crawled aside, forming a narrow walkway in the middle, Adrian lifted his gaze to look at the faint figure that was approaching, ambling coolly between the walls of lianas, a hand raised as though to command the lianas to stay put.

For a few minutes, Adrian did nothing but stare. The stranger was clad in a brown tunic that was adorned with rags, small green vines that were also coiled around his forearms, a belt made of twigs and tiny purple flowers around his waist. The same flowers were hanging to the strands of his deep hazel-brown hair. His black trousers looked tight enough to cut off the blood flow to his legs. As he advanced closer, Adrian could see the black kohl that lined his dark eyes. His bare arms were inked with unfamiliar symbols. His fingernails were black as well. His bronze skin looked as though he had spent his entire life under the sun. When Adrian looked at the boy’s feet, he was not surprised to find them bare and uncovered.

A wood witch, no doubt.

Adrian gripped the axe tightly as he stood his ground between the abominable witch and Kylan. “One more step, and I’ll split your skull open, witch,” he spat through his clenched teeth.

The witch halted at once, eyes widening at Adrian. For a length, he mustered Adrian from head to toe with clear disbelief and astonishment in his eyes. Then his gaze darted past Adrian’s shoulder and landed on Kylan. Adrian tossed the tomahawk and caught it again to avert the witch’s attention from his son.

His eyes briefly dropped to the small baby fox that scampered over to the witch and sat by the witch’s bare feet.

“We want no trouble,” said Adrian. “We are just passing through.”

The witch crossed his arms over his chest then, scowling. “The Red Woods is not for you to pass through.” Adrian was surprised by how soft the witch’s voice was. “No mortal or undead beings can even enter the Red Woods. I saw to the barriers myself.”

Adrian gnashed his teeth uncomfortably. “We will be on our way, then.”

He turned around and drove his axe into the lianas to clear the path. “Stop!” the witch yapped. Adrian turned back to the young witch with a scowl. “You are hurting them.” The witch pinned Adrian with a disapproving, black look.

It would be a lot easier to just put the tomahawk in the witch’s head. “You have my son caught in your vines!” Adrian growled at the witch.

“Well, he was snapping the branches of my trees.” The witch sighed then and waved his hand, as though to beckon to the lianas. Obeying his command at once, the lianas writhed aside and uncoiled themselves around Kylan.

The boy dropped to the ground and gasped. “Whoa!” He hurried to Adrian’s side and gaped at the witch. “How did you do that?!”

The witch smirked almost proudly. “I have some tricks up my sleeve, kid.”

“That was awesome.”

The witch giggled. Adrian blinked and then grimaced.

He then grabbed Kylan’s shoulder with his free hand and glowered at the witch. “And we are leaving,” he spat.

Kylan pulled away from Adrian and ran over to the witch.

“Kylan!” Adrian chided as the boy dropped to his knees to get a better look at the baby fox.

“He is so adorable!” Kylan exclaimed. “What is his name?”

The witch lowered himself to a crouch, wearing a smile that appeared to be sincere. But Adrian knew that there was nothing sincere about witches and hexes.

“I call him Qinto,” said the witch.

“Qinto,” Kylan repeated with a soft chuckle. “Can I pet him?”

“Boy,” Adrian growled, only to be ignored. The witch nodded, and Kylan reached a hand out to the baby fox, which immediately leaped forward to sniff his hand. The boy chuckled again, rubbing the fox’s head.

“We are looking for his mother,” the witch said at length. Kylan froze. “She went looking for food a while ago, and she is not back. Qinto was lost and scared.”

Adrian caught Kylan’s arm then and yanked him up to his feet. “We are leaving,” he said it as a command.

“Father,” Kylan rasped under his breath as Adrian dragged him away. “Qinto’s mother… Is she the fox that we…”

“Quiet,” Adrian ordered.

“But we must tell them! They would keep looking otherwise.” Kylan sounded like he was about to break into sobs.

“That is a witch,” Adrian informed him, keeping his grip tight around the boy’s arm.

Kylan was silent for a moment. Then in disbelief, he said, “A witch?”

“A wood witch. Wood witches are not essentially dangerous or evil, but this one seems powerful enough to be dangerous. We must leave these woods at once.”

“But he seems friendly,” Kylan argued. “He’s the first real person I have ever talked to… Apart from you, but you never want to talk to me, anyway.”

Adrian stopped in his tracks and fixed the boy with a daggering look. “I can assure you, boy, that a witch is not your _friend_.”

“We killed Qinto’s mother,” the boy then said grievously. “I… killed her. Qinto is an orphan now… because of me.”

Adrian was dumbfounded by how guilt-stricken his son was by something so trivial. “Do not get attached to wild animals, boy. Do not give them names.”

“I know you think so little of animals, but _I_ feel a connection to them. Unlike you, I care for them.”

Oh, if only Kylan knew just how much Adrian had cared for one in particular a long time ago…

“And… Qinto doesn’t have a mother now… like me.” Kylan’s eyes were glinting with tears as he said that. He looked away, as though he did not want his father to catch the tears in his eyes. “I must tell the witch that I killed Qinto’s mother. Please, Father.”

As much as Adrian wanted to drag the boy away against his will, he saw how much this meant to Kylan. He wanted to clear his conscience, and that was a good sign. He was better than his father was. He would be better than most. A bit of guilty conscience could bring a man a long way.

Adrian heaved a sigh. “Very well. But you will remember to keep your wits about you around that witch. Witches cannot be trusted. Am I understood?”

Kylan nodded and smiled faintly. As they turned around, they were both surprised to find the wood witch and the baby fox sauntering towards them.

“Are you two lost?” the witch asked.

“I don’t… think so,” answered Kylan when Adrian refused to talk to the witch anymore. “There is… something I have to confess.”

The witch arched an eyebrow, but he did not look hostile. “What is it, little one?”

Kylan made a face, as though he were offended by what the witch called him. “It’s about… Qinto’s mother.”

The witch glanced down at the red fox and cocked a curious eyebrow. Kylan stepped forward, keeping his head hung. Adrian kept his grip steady around his tomahawk.

Raising his head, the boy then met the witch’s eyes with a grieving look. “I am very sorry,” he began with an apology. “I would not have done it if I had known that she had a baby. But I… I… shot her.”

The witch did not respond immediately. He seemed to be processing the information for a moment. “You… shot her?” he asked at length.

Kylan nodded. “I am so sorry.”

“Why did you do that?” asked the witch, frowning.

“Well, we… _I_ was hunting. I needed something to eat.”

Adrian stared at his son. That was very noble of the boy to want to protect his father. He placed a hand on Kylan’s shoulder and pulled him away. “Upon my orders,” he told the witch with a scowl. “He shot the fox because I told him to.”

The witch’s gaze hardened as it rose to Adrian. “Of course,” he spat furiously. “You ordered your son to shoot my fox and then ate her!”

“We haven’t eaten her yet,” Adrian said nonchalantly. The witch’s glaring eyes turned darker. Adrian rolled his own and turned on his heel. “Come, boy.”

“We are very sorry, Qinto,” Kylan told the baby fox next. “I am motherless, too. And it is very hard for me.”

Adrian spun around, ready to snap at his son, but he was surprised to see the witch’s scowl melting into a pitying frown.

He fell to one of his knees and smiled weakly at Kylan. “It is all right. You are sorry for what you did. That’s what matters. Qinto is a strong boy. Just like you,” he told Kylan, who was so close to bursting into tears. “He will survive.”

Wiping his eyes, Kylan nodded. “I wish there was something that I can do.”

“Well, there is. I would appreciate it if you do not hunt my animals in these woods again. Can you promise me that?”

Kylan bowed his head again. “I promise.”

The witch smiled. “Good. Because all of them are my pets.” Rising back to his feet, he sighed. “If you and your brutish father are hungry, you can come back to my place. I will be more than happy to fill your bellies with some freshly cooked goodies.”

Kylan gasped with excitement and looked back at his father.

“We are leaving,” said Adrian.

The witch loosened his clenched jaw. “I suggest that you come with me. You could use some help for your journey.”

Adrian stared at the witch painstakingly. “If you think I am going to accept any help from a trickster, think again, witch.”

“I’m sure _you_ can get by just fine without any help,” said the witch, eyes piercing into Adrian’s for a long moment before he glanced to Kylan. It was then when Adrian noticed just how pale the boy had gotten in the past couple of days, especially now that he was standing next to the witch, whose skin was as tan as sweet toffee. It even had a slight shimmer to it. “The same could not be said for you _both._ I know that and more for certain. But I will not force your hand to take my help.”

The witch shrugged and began to turn around.

“Wait,” Adrian said. “What… more do you know?”

Smirking, the witch held an arm out. “My hovel is this way.”

After a moment of contemplation, Adrian nodded his head curtly. “I will go get my things first.”

Kylan was grinning from ear to ear as he hurried after Adrian. The witch and the fox followed as well.

“My name is Kylan,” said the boy. “I am almost seven years old!”

“My. You are quite big for someone your age. And very smart.” The witch smiled pleasantly. “I am Jongin. Witch of the Red Woods.”

“Awesome,” chuckled Kylan. “Oh, and my father’s name is Adrian. I don’t know how old he is, but he is very old. He’s got some grey hairs. But he is still _very_ strong!”

“I am sure he is,” said the witch.

Adrian’s jaw tightened, though he said nothing.

* * *

# Quest Four

**Witch of the Red Woods.**

Kylan could not take his eyes off the baby fox that was skipping about, chasing after his every step. He giggled and crouched a few times to pet the fox while a sickening bitterness turned his stomach. He wished that he could turn back time and spare Qinto’s mother. He wished that he had fought his father harder on killing the red fox for food. But he knew that it would have been a losing fight.

There was something about the witch that made Kylan’s chest warm, in spite of the chill that constantly blanketed him. He had never met a witch before, but Jongin was not at all what Kylan had thought a witch would be.

Sure, he was dressed funny. Everything about him was eccentric and curious. But he was very pretty.

“Did you know that you have little flowers in your hair?” Kylan asked, walking up to the witch.

Jongin laughed, and it sounded like the chiming wind. “Yes, I am aware,” he said. “It’s the raccoons’ doing.”

“You have raccoons, too?!”

“Oh, yes. They are quite mischievous, especially when you are not looking. But I love them all the same.”

Kylan blushed. “Well, I think your hair looks pretty.”

“Why, thank you, Kylan.” Jongin paused to look back at Kylan’s father, who was following them with a sour glare etched on his face. “I see that you have not inherited your father’s terrible temperament.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Kylan sighed.

“Boy,” his father growled.

Kylan shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

“Boy!”

Kylan ignored him. For once, there was someone he could talk to. And Jongin answered every single one of his questions. Kylan wished that the witch would never leave him.

“Do you live in these woods?” he asked Jongin.

The older boy nodded. “I do. I have lived here for years.”

“Do the Dreygurs come here?”

Jongin arched a curious brow then. “The _Dreygurs_?”

“Boy,” Kylan heard his father chide.

“Yes,” Kylan said, anyway. “We ran into a few on our way. Dead, but not-so-dead men.”

The witch nodded his head thoughtfully. “I believe we call them Walkers.”

“Walkers.”

“Yes. They have been plaguing the realm for nearly three years now.”

Kylan was surprised by this information and so was his father when he looked back at the man. “We haven’t left home for… ever.”

Jongin glanced over his shoulder and pinned Kylan’s father a strange look. Then looking down at Kylan again, the witch smiled. Gee, he had a very pretty smile, too.

“Where did they come from?” asked Kylan.

“No one knows,” said Jongin. “Well, I mean, they are men and women who were once dead. I do not know how or why they became undead. But I heard a bird or two say that they are plaguing the realm because we are nearing the end of days. According to the prophecy of the old gods.”

“Prophecy of the old gods?” rasped Kylan. “What does it say?”

“We do not care, boy,” spat his father. He marched up to the witch and grabbed him by his arm. Jongin winced but did not retaliate as the man harshly gripped his arm. “Do not feed the boy with lies and stories, witch.”

For a moment, Jongin did nothing but glower at Kylan’s father, who was being very rude.

“Father,” Kylan protested weakly, grabbing onto his father’s arm. “Please, do not hurt him.”

Jongin scoffed then. “I highly doubt that he would be able to.”

“Is that a challenge, witch?” the man grumbled with his teeth gnashed. “Because I would love to prove you wrong.”

Jongin’s gaze bored into the other man’s for a long length. Jongin was significantly shorter and smaller than Kylan’s father. “I would advise you against touching me again it if you plan to keep that hand.”

Kylan watched his father’s expression harden, and for a second, he thought that his father might just rip the witch’s arm off, but he released it and stepped away.

“You cannot keep your son in the dark forever,” the witch then muttered before he walked away.

Kylan blinked at his father, who stood still momentarily with his nostrils flaring in rage. Then turning around, he stomped after the witch. Kylan followed.

His stomach grumbled after a while, and he clamped his arms around it. Jongin looked at him with a smirk. “Hungry?”

Kylan nodded. “I could eat a whole buck,” he sighed.

Jongin cocked a brow.

“Uh… I mean…” Kylan scratched the back of his head.

“I hope some winter radish stew would make you just as happy,” said Jongin. Kylan smiled sheepishly, even though he had no idea what winter radish tasted like.

He played with Qinto for the rest of the way and made sure that his father and Jongin did not speak again to each other. He did not want his father to scare away the first friend Kylan had ever made.

* * *

Adrian was not sure what he had expected, but he certainly did not anticipate a gigantic angel oak tree, whose leaves were as scarlet as blood, whose massive, long branches spread out like veins, clambering up the rapidly greying sky.

“You… live in a tree?” Kylan asked with his head tilted confusedly at a side.

The witch laughed amusedly. “Try… _under_ it.”

He lifted a hand and waved it over the tree. Adrian had seen quite a few wonders in his prime, but he had never seen a moving tree until today.

The tree’s humongous trunk uncurled itself while its roots climbed out of the soil, revealing a wooden door in the trunk. The same symbols that were inked to the witch’s arms were carved into the door.

Kylan looked like he might keel over from all this excitement. For once, blood filled his cheeks, and he did not look as sick.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, guffawing. “Father! Did you see that?! That was amazing!”

“It is nothing but an extravagant, excessive trick, boy,” Adrian told his son.

Kylan was barely listening to him as he gawked at the lampposts that emerged from the ground to stand by the door. “I can’t believe my eyes!”

The witch seemed pleased and proud by his magical administrations. Adrian maintained a stoic face.

“You are the most awesome person I have ever known!” Kylan declared to the witch, who blushed shyly.

“Why, thank you. Come on in, Kylan. I believe I promised you some stew.” With another wave of his hand, the witch opened the door of his hovel.

The scent of dirt, rain, herbs and flowers filled Adrian’s nose.

Kylan looked at him, as though he were awaiting permission. Sighing, Adrian nodded his head. The boy then hurried into the witch’s hovel. Adrian stared at the witch, who was holding the door open for him, for a stretch.

The witch rolled his eyes. “If I wanted to hurt you and the boy, I would have done it already,” he said. “I do not blame you for your cynicism, but certainly you must know by now that I do mean you two any harm.”

Adrian let out another heavy breath and walked into the house. He fixed the witch with a hard glare as he strode past him. The witch smelled like dirt, rain, herbs and flowers, too.

His dark, discerning eyes followed Adrian’s gaze sedulously, as though they were trying to read all of Adrian’s soul.

“Don’t try anything funny, witch,” Adrian told him in a low voice.

A corner of the boy’s full, plump lips curled into a smirk. “I would not dare… risk the wrath of a god’s kin,” he replied in a quiet whisper that turned Adrian’s blood cold.

He did not move or look away from the witch’s unblinking eyes for a very long while. He felt his blood pulse in his temples.

He only tore his murderous gaze away from the witch when he heard Kylan screech, “It’s a bird!”

The furniture in the hovel was made of nothing but wood, vines and wild flowers. There was a small, dainty fireplace, a bed, a table and some wooden chairs that were too small to fit someone as big as Adrian. In fact, nothing about the hovel fitted Adrian. His head bumped against the ceiling even when he kept it bowed low.

“I will have the fire going,” the witch said and hurried to the fireplace. “You look cold.”

Kylan was too engrossed in the animals that were scurrying about the hovel to even hear what was being told to him. The baby fox hopped over to the fireplace and curled up into a ball on the ground before it.

“That is Filli,” the witch said as Kylan walked over to a snow owl with his eyes almost as wide as the owl’s. “He likes to think of himself as the wisest being in the room.”

“He is so… beautiful,” said Kylan, eyes raking the few golden feathers that speckled the otherwise white owl. The boy was promptly distracted by the opossum that snuck up on him. “Ah!”

“Do not be afraid,” said the witch, picking the curious opossum up into his arms. “They are all very friendly.”

“What other pets do you have?” Kylan gasped, holding a hand out to stroke the opossum’s snowy fur.

“Plenty. Every animal in the Red Woods is a pet and a friend. From bears, foxes, wolves to the songbirds and the critters. I hold them all very dear to me.”

Adrian almost rolled his eyes at the witch. Perhaps the witch was a childish little fool after all. Except that Adrian did not quite believe that the witch was all that naïve. He must have an ulterior motive.

“Wolves?” exclaimed Kylan. “You have pet wolves?!”

“Yes,” the witch replied with a soft chuckle. “A whole pack.” He then handed the opossum over to Kylan, who carefully wrapped his arms around the furry animal.

The boy’s expression turned sad then. “I am sorry… about Qinto’s mother,” he murmured. “She must have meant a lot to you, too.”

The witch sighed. “What’s done is done. We cannot weep over the past or the future, Kylan. It is the present that matters. You are forgiven. Besides, it was not your fault as much as it was your father’s. That said, a son should not have to pay for his father’s sins.”

“That’s enough, witch,” Adrian growled, his voice dropping to a menace.

The witch raised his insouciant gaze to meet Adrian’s. “Why don’t you entertain yourself with my pets while I fix you a warm meal, Kylan?”

The boy did not need to be told twice. He released the opossum and ran after the pair of white ferrets that crawled across the room.

“You ought to get some rest,” the witch told Adrian as he ambled past him, heading for the furnace above which a kettle was hanging. Adrian spared Kylan one last glance before he went after the wood witch.

“What do you know?” he asked the witch quietly.

The witch did not look at him as he made himself to look busy, gathering some raw winter radish from the shelves. “About you or your son?”

“About the boy,” Adrian spat.

The witch turned to face him then. He had eyes that could make a common man fall on his knees. But Adrian was no common man. Not even close.

Those eyes shot past Adrian’s shoulder momentarily and stared sadly at Kylan, who was set on the floor, giggling at the rodents that climbed into his lap.

Looking back to Adrian, the witch frowned. “Your son is dying,” he said, much to Adrian’s dismay. A cruel pain shot through Adrian’s chest in that moment because as he gazed into the witch’s eyes, he knew that the boy was telling the truth. Though the witch appeared to be very young, no older than mid-twenties perhaps, his eyes betrayed decades of wisdom. Adrian would not be surprised if he had used witchcraft to conceal his real age.

“You will do well to choose your next words very carefully, witch,” Adrian warned him, not wanting to hear that his son was ailing from another witch.

The witch’s frown deepened. “I do not lie,” he said, keeping his voice low enough for Kylan to not to hear. “I do not know where you are journeying to, but the boy needs help.”

Grinding his teeth, Adrian stared the witch down for a moment before he realized that he could not afford to be too proud to ask for help now. Even that of a witch’s. When it came to his son, Adrian would not hesitate to forsake every last silver of his pride and stoop to the lowest of all to protect him. And it did not matter whether or not Kylan believed that.

“The boy,” Adrian began at length, his heart as heavy as a boulder. “will benefit from no help in this realm.”

The witch did not look surprised by that. He nodded. “You believe that the cure for his illness can only be found in the realm whence you come.”

Adrian gripped his jaw. “How… did you know?”

The witch smirked. “About you or about your son?”

Adrian licked his lips and scratched his beard. “About… me.”

“You are not of this realm. Even the lowest form of hexes can see that. Even your scent does not belong to this realm.” He turned away from Adrian briefly to counter on which he promptly skinned and sliced the radishes.

Adrian set his knapsack in a corner and leaned against a wall. “The Dreygurs. You said that they are plaguing for the end of days.”

The witch nodded thoughtfully. “I believe that they are. The Walkers are not the only curse plaguing the realm now.”

Adrian’s eyebrows furrowed into a scowl. “What others are there?”

Pausing for a moment, the witch looked up at him. “You are journeying to the mountains, aren’t you?”

Adrian did not respond, but that was answer enough. The witch said nothing more as he proceeded to make the stew, though he seemed a bit distracted.

“No meat?” Adrian asked, scowling.

The witch frowned. “I do not have any meat lying about.”

Adrian stomped over to a rabbit that was chewing vigorously on something in a corner and picked it up by its ears. “What about this one?”

“No!” the witch screeched and rushed over to retrieve the rabbit from Adrian’s grip. “These are my pets! My friends!”

Adrian pinned him with a hard glower. “Boys should eat plenty of red meat to grow and become strong. Perhaps if you had eaten these pets of yours instead, you would not have grown to be so small.”

“Did no one teach you anything about houseguest etiquettes?” the witch spat, stroking the rabbit tenderly before releasing it back to the ground. “One of which is not to eat the host’s pets! And to insult his appearance.”

Adrian continued to stare at the witch grouchily, but he did not say anything more.

Later, he handed cups of water to both Adrian and Kylan and welcomed them to have their seats at the table. The witch’s pets joined them, too. Adrian fought the urge to strangle each and every one of them to their death. Kylan, on the other hand, enjoyed the furry company a little too much. He even let the opossum curl up on his lap.

“You should spend the night here,” said the witch. “I have spare pallets.”

“Do you have guests often?” asked Kylan, and Adrian was curious about the answer, too.

The witch shook his head, exhaling heavily. “Sadly, no. I only have… these animals.”

“Why? Don’t you have family or friends?” inquired Kylan.

“Boy,” Adrian chided. “It is none of our business.”

The witch indulged the boy’s inquisitiveness, anyway. “I do not have any family,” he said with a twinge of sadness in his eyes. “And people… fear me. No one wants to be friends with a witch.” He glanced at Adrian in that moment.

“I have no friends either,” Kylan muttered. “And it feels like I have no family, too.” He hung his head, refusing to meet his father’s harsh glower.

“What did you say, boy?” Adrian spat.

“Here you go,” the witch interjected, placing bowls of steaming hot stew before them on the table. “Eat up while it’s warm. And consider this my way of apologizing for having you caught in my lianas earlier.” He smiled at Kylan. The same smile was not spared for Adrian. Instead, the witch pinned Adrian with a stern look.

“This is yummy!” Kylan cried after slurping a spoonful of the stew. “Thank you, Jongin. You are mighty sweet and kind. You are the nicest person I have ever met.”

Adrian pinned his son with a more severe glare before he turned the black look to the witch. No matter what the witch said, Adrian would be wise to remain chary around him. Witches should never be trusted. They were as sly and cunning as gods.

“Are you warm enough?” the witch asked Kylan as he picked up the baby fox and stroked it gently before laying it down on the pallet near the fireplace.

“I am. Thank you,” said Kylan.

The witch turned back to them with a funny smirk. “You are very well-mannered, Kylan,” he remarked, and the boy grinned happily. “I am quite surprised. Considering the fact that you were raised by a man so ill-mannered that he brings his filthy weapon to the food table.”

Adrian consciously looked down at the axe he had tossed onto the table earlier. “Your home smells like raccoon shit,” Adrian grumbled.

“Father!” Kylan rasped and looked at the witch embarrassedly. “I apologize for what he said. We are very grateful for your hospitality.”

“Such a wise, polite child,” commented the witch. “This apple fell very far from the tree.” He rummaged through the jars on the shelf for a moment before retrieving a couple of wrapped bundles. He handed them to Kylan. “I made these sweetmeats myself. Sugar apple flavoured.”

Kylan pocketed the sweetmeats at once, pinning his father with a sidelong glance, as though he were afraid that Adrian might take the sweets.

Rolling his eyes, Adrian picked up the bowl and chugged down the stew like it was water. Then wiping his mouth and beard on the back of his hand, he stood up. “Eat up. We are leaving.”

“But Jongin offered to let us stay the night,” Kylan groused, frowning.

“You can leave in the morning,” said the witch then, facing Adrian. “There is still… some things I have to say to you. Things you would want to hear.”

Though Adrian wanted to object and leave right away, he knew that he needed all the help he could get. Especially if Kylan was falling ill fast.

A few moments later, once Kylan was done with every last drop of the stew, he leaned back and rubbed his bulging belly. “I’m fuller than a dog tick!”

The witch chuckled and ran his fingers through the boy’s shortly cropped hair. Kylan closed his eyes and leaned into the touch like a puppy.

Adrian watched with a lockjaw.

“How do you feel?” the witch asked the boy.

Kylan nodded, muttering, “Good. And a little sleepy.”

“Well, perhaps you should lay down.”

The boy nodded again and rose to his feet. He followed the witch to the bed, where he plopped down and started removing his footwear.

“Now, get some sleep,” said the witch, his voice carrying across the room like a lullaby.

As Kylan lay on the bed, eyes pulling shut immediately, he drowsily drawled, “My… mother’s… toy.” He pointed to his little knapsack.

The witch looked confused. Heaving a sigh, Adrian fished the wooden figurine out of the knapsack and pressed it into the boy’s hands. Kylan sleepily hugged the plaything to his chest and dozed off. When Adrian turned and stomped over to the witch, he found the latter staring vacantly at the figurine.

“What did you do to him?” he demanded. The witch tore his troubled gaze away from the wooden toy and fixed it on Adrian.

“I just added a little something in his stew to help him regenerate and feel better. He will need sleep and plenty of rest tonight to let the medicine to its work.” He frowned at Kylan. “He is very weak, in case you haven’t noticed. He is putting up a strong front… for you. If you keep pushing him too much, he might give in sooner than you think.”

He moved away from the fireplace and the bed. Adrian followed him into the kitchen. “Have you healed him?” he asked.

“No,” said the witch. “I only gave him something to keep his vigour up for a few days.”

Adrian huffed heavily. “What do you know of his illness?”

The witch hesitated to answer. After a long moment, he turned around and faced Adrian with a distressed gaze. “I know that it isn’t an illness of the body. It is more that of the heart.”

Adrian scowled. “What does that mean?”

“There is something that is weakening his soul. Something that… is not detectable to the naked eye and certainly not to ordinary healers. This sort of illness does not come from this realm . It has to be from yours. Fortunately, his spirit is strong. Like your own.”

The witch took a seat in one of the chairs and stared at Adrian like he was expecting Adrian to sit down as well. Adrian huffed and plumped in a chair.

“A hex once augured that… he would not see his seventh winter,” Adrian divulged half-heartedly.

The witch bowed his head. “I would predict the same, looking at the current state of his health.”

Adrian felt his heart twist in pain. “I am not going to let that happen.”

A strange smile curled the witch’s lips. “I’m sure you will do anything for him. Perhaps you should let him know that.”

Adrian looked away. It had been forever since he had had someone to talk to like this. Adrian had never been much of a talker or a sharer. But he was beginning to see the witch might be genuine with his intentions.

“We must reach the mountains before winter,” Adrian said at length.

The witch looked a bit distraught then. He took a moment to respond. “You won’t have much… luck at the mountains. The Gateway… is broken.”

“What?”

“I have heard that the Gateway of the Gods has been broken for long. Years.” He frowned at Adrian. “Perhaps… you… broke it on your way here.”

Adrian froze, his heart sinking. “That is impossible. If the Gateway is broken, then there is no way for us to return to my realm.”

The witch glanced at the sleeping Kylan pitifully. Then for a long stretch, he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. “Perhaps there is one,” he said a moment later. “Nothing broken is irreparable.”

“You are saying if the Gateway is untraversable, it can be fixed?” said Adrian.

“Possibly,” the other said. “But you would… need a witch for that. And an artificer.”

“Where would I get a witch and an artificer?!”

“Well,” the witch sighed. “I suppose… I could help.”

“You are a wood witch. All that you know about is where the moss grows and where the rabbits burrow.”

The witch made a face at him then. “I will have to do unless you can find a powerful witch to help you in such short notice.”

Adrian gritted his teeth.

“Beggars cannot be choosers,” said the witch with a shrug. “And I want to help the boy.”

Adrian glared into the witch’s eyes. “How do I know that this is not a ploy of yours?”

“I think I would be a lot less obvious if it were.”

Letting out a heavy breath, Adrian carded his fingers through his hair. The witch watched him do that with great intent. Adrian lowered his hand again.

The witch cleared his throat. “As for the artificer, I know someone.”

“Who?”

“Well… He comes with a hefty price tag and is quite the blatherskite. But he possesses a remarkable craftsmanship.”

Adrian nodded his head. “If you are lying about any of this, witch, I will send you to the deepest pits of the underworld where you will never find your way out.”

The witch smiled. “I am certain you know _your_ way out of there.”

Adrian did not respond. But yes, he did.

“You can deny it all you want,” the witch said. “But I know what you are. And the boy has to know, too.”

“If you tell him anything,” Adrian growled under his breath. “I will see to it personally that your woods, your home, and your animals are razed to the ground.”

The witch’s eyes narrowed in anger then. “The longer you keep this secret from your son, the more it will hurt him.”

 _That_ was not the secret that would hurt the boy the most. Adrian kept so many dangerous secrets locked away that he knew exactly which ones would hurt whom the worst.

“Tell me what the prophecy of the old gods says,” Adrian demanded.

The witch was hesitating to answer. He blinked and lowered his lined eyes. “It is a long story that needs a longer night to narrate.”

“Fine. We leave at first light,” Adrian told the witch as he shot up from his seat. “Pack your bunnies and your flowerpots, witch.”

“You will be surprised to find out that I can be as cutthroat as you, brute.”

For the first time in forever, Adrian smirked, though he already had his back turned to the witch as he started for the door. “I would love to see that,” he scoffed in a whisper and strode over to the bed on which Kylan was sleeping on. He kicked a hare out of his way and heard the witch hiss disapprovingly.

Even if the witch were lying, Adrian did not have a large array of options at this point. If the witch were telling the truth about the Gateway, then making the journey to the mountains would be futile. It was better to be safe than sorry. On the other hand, Adrian was worried that, if the witch turned out to have been evil all along, he had fallen right into the witch’s trap, dragging his son down with him.

He decided to rely on blind faith for now. He deserved no good fate. He deserved no hope, no grace, no generosity from the universe. He had been a rotten person all his life. He had done terrible deeds. He had no right to ask the universe for mercy. But Kylan was innocent. He was only a child. Adrian believed that the universe would not punish the child for his father’s wrongdoings. And that belief convinced him that this journey would bear its fruits. All would end well for the boy.

Perhaps Adrian had finally found a ray of hope for the sake of his son.

* * *

#  Quest Five

**Troll Bridge.**

“Now, I must warn you,” the witch said as they wended their way out of his hovel in the morning. “The path you travel is not safe. Creatures of all sorts have been roaming the realm lately.”

“Because of the end of days?” asked Kylan, who sounded chirpier than usual. In fact, colour had returned to his cheeks. He was not wheezing when he spoke. His eyes were not circled with black for once. Adrian was pleased to see that his son felt better. But the witch had said last night that the effects of the medicinal herb would not last long.

The witch nodded to Kylan’s inquiry. “That’s what everyone believes.”

“What is on our path?” Adrian asked, scowling.

The witch stared at him and then at Kylan. “Is he always so grouchy so early in the morning?”

Kylan giggled. “Always.”

Adrian’s scowl hardened. “Answer the question, witch.”

“I have a name.”

“I don’t care.”

The witch clenched his jaw then. “I don’t know,” he said. “It could be anything. I haven’t really left the Red Woods in a long time. I only know what the birds have told me, and they aren’t very lucid with their descriptions.”

“Can you really talk to animals?” gasped Kylan.

The witch grinned. “Oh, yes. Some.”

“Wow. Sometimes, I feel like I can understand them, too.”

“Is that so?”

“We ought to get moving,” Adrian grumbled as he started stomping away from the angel oak tree.

“He says that a lot,” Kylan sighed.

“You are going the wrong way,” the witch called out to Adrian. “We must head northwards to get to Rakar.”

Adrian stopped and turned around.

“Oh,” the witch said, crouching to the ground. “I found these for you.” He handed Kylan a bunch of arrows. They were well-made, most certainly by a skilled fletcher. The arrowheads were made of good steel. The shafts were made of redwood. “They are infused with blessings.”

“Oh, goodness! My heart is just going!” Kylan exclaimed, quickly putting the arrows into his quiver. “Thank you, Jongin.”

“You’re welcome, Kylan.”

Rising back to his full height, the witch turned to Adrian. “And this is for you.” He held out an empty hand. Adrian cocked a brow at him. “This will help you navigate better and steer you away from trouble.”

“Are you not coming with us?” Kylan asked the question Adrian almost asked himself.

The witch shook his head. “I will meet you at the troll bridge. Wait for me there. I just have some things I must take care of before I leave.”

He was still holding his bare hand out to Adrian, who pinned him with a hard glare.

“Trust me,” the witch sighed, noting the scepticism in Adrian’s eyes. “Give me your hand.”

“I am not holding hands with you, witch,” Adrian spat.

The witch gave him an angry look then. “You are an insufferable son of a—” He cut himself short, glancing to Kylan, who was watching them with wide, amused eyes. Clearing his throat, the witch met Adrian’s gaze sharply. “Just hold your hand out, will you?”

Adrian was reluctant, but he eventually huffed out an exasperated breath and stuck a hand out. He then watched the witch’s palm glow as tiny symbols flared up in gold. He held the palm over Adrian’s, barely touching it. Adrian felt the symbols sear into his own callused palm. It did not hurt any more than the gentle flame of a matchstick. Even so, the witch looked at Adrian with an impressed expression, as though he had expected Adrian to at least wince in discomfort. Adrian had been through hell—several times—before. A little wood witch’s spell was not going to make his eyes water.

“There,” the witch said, withdrawing his hand. Adrian surveyed the symbols on his palm that were glowing in yellow before they faded like a stamped-out candleflame. The symbols disappeared into Adrian’s blistered palm.

“What is this?” he asked.

“I told you. It is a navigator,” replied the witch. “It will warn you when you are nearing danger. But I doubt that you are the kind of man who heed warnings.”

He was right about that.

Adrian did not tell him that, though.

“Can’t you just come with us now?” Kylan whined to the witch with his lower lip jutted out. Adrian had only seen the boy so crestfallen a few times. One of those times, Adrian had refused to tell him a bedtime story when Kylan had asked for it. The boy had cried himself to sleep.

“I’m afraid not,” the witch said with a sympathetic frown. “But I will catch up. Trust me.”

“Do not make us wait for long, witch,” Adrian told the young witch as the last thing before he turned on his heel and started walking northwards. “Kylan, come along now.”

The boy was reluctant to say goodbye, even a brief one, to the witch. With a heavy sigh, he eventually waved the witch goodbye and hurried after his father. “See you soon, Jongin. Say goodbye to Qinto for me.”

“What did I tell you about making friends with a witch?” Adrian chided the boy as soon as they were out of the witch’s earshot.

Kylan pouted, hanging his head. “He is very nice.”

“He is a trickster.”

The boy grumbled something under his breath.

“You have something to say, boy?” Adrian growled.

“No, Father,” Kylan mumbled, his face scrunched up in an annoyed frown.

“I taught you to be wary of everyone,” said Adrian. “Perhaps you haven’t learned.”

“I have,” the boy argued, raising his head. “But Jongin is the only friend I have ever made! And he wants to talk to me. He answers my questions. He gives me gifts. It is nice to have someone care about me for once. You don’t even like having me around.”

Adrian halted in his tracks and faced his son. “That is not true, Kylan,” he said, heart clenching.

The boy scowled furiously. “Yeah, well, it is. And I don’t want to be around you either,” he spat at Adrian. “I wish my mother had lived and it was you who had…”

Kylan trailed off, pursing his lips before he could say too much.

Adrian squared his shoulders and stared at the boy for a moment too long before he started walking again with his hands balled into fists at his sides.

* * *

He could not believe it. He could not believe that he had said those words out loud to his father and still had his head intact. He was not sure where he had mustered the courage or the audacity from. But he knew that he felt good. No. He felt better than good. The fatigue that constantly kept his spirits low had vanished overnight. Kylan wondered if it had something to do with how happy he was to have made so many friends in one day.

Jongin and his pets. They were wonderful. Kind, friendly and just beautiful, every last one of them. Kylan had never met anyone as pretty as Jongin. It was too bad his father had to be so mean and rude to Jongin. He hoped to see Jongin again.

As furious as he was at his father for mistreating the witch, who was only trying to help them, he did not think that he meant what he had said. About wishing that his mother had lived instead of his father.

The man was rough on the edges. A little too much. And he was emotionally constipated. But Kylan did not want him to be gone. Not really. He just wanted his father to love him.

They did not speak to each other after Kylan’s little riff. His father kept looking down at his palm with a focused scowl on his brows. Kylan considered apologizing for what he had said, but he decided against it in the end.

They had left the Red Woods. The trees were thicker, browner, and less impressive now.

Kylan halted abruptly when he saw a shadow move between the trees. He gasped when he saw a set of purple eyes—curtained by strands of silvery blonde hair—peer at him from behind a tree.

“What is it?” asked his father.

Kylan blinked, narrowing his eyes as he tried to get a better look at whatever that was rustling behind the trees. He jumped with a start when an albino squirrel scuttered out of the shrubbery.

“Just a rodent,” said his father.

Kylan scratched his head. “I thought… I saw a… boy.”

His father’s expression hardened then as he grabbed his tomahawk and marched toward the trees. He spent a few seconds looking around them. “There is no one here.”

Kylan shuddered. “I might be wrong.”

“You probably are.” With that, his father returned the axe to its belt and beckoned Kylan to walk.

As he followed after his father, Kylan glanced back at the trees one last time. He saw nothing. He sighed. He was probably seeing things that were not there.

They continued on their path, still not willing to talk to one another. It was easy. They had had plenty of practice ignoring each other in spite of existing in the same space for a very long time.

The silence was broken eventually. Surprisingly, it was by the older of the two.

“Wish what you want, boy,” his father said in a low, almost threatful voice. “But _this_ is the reality. I suggest you make peace with it.”

Kylan gritted his teeth. It was not what he wanted to hear from the man. It only angered him more. “Did you even love Mother?”

That stopped his father dead still. For a long minute, he neither moved or said anything. His shoulders looked taut and tense. He was glaring ahead at the stone bridge that was arching over a shallow river.

Kylan wanted to kick his father’s shin and throw a temper tantrum, but he too was promptly distracted by the monstrous giant that was pacing the length of the bridge. The hideous beast sported two large horns on its forehead. Its build was bulked with hefty muscles. Its hide was as thick as a rock. It looked impenetrable. Its ragged breathing sounded like a windstorm. It was the biggest and scariest thing Kylan had ever set his eyes upon.

“Wh-What is… that?” he let out, heart pounding in his chest.

“A troll,” his father replied in a whisper. “Why hadn’t the witch warned us about this?”

Kylan recalled what Jongin had said. “He did. This is the troll bridge.”

“I thought he said it was a toll bridge.”

“Nah-uh.” Kylan shook his head. “He said _troll_ bridge.”

His father looked annoyed then. “This is an inconvenience.” Putting the knapsack down, he grabbed hold of his axe. “Stay here.”

“No!” Kylan yapped. “I want to help. I can help.”

“No, you cannot, boy.”

“Yes, I can!” He dropped his own knapsack to the ground and armed himself with his bow. He faced his father with a determined look. “I can help,” he said again, spelling the words out stubbornly.

His father glared at him for a moment before he nodded his head curtly. “All right,” he said and lowered himself to a crouch. “You shoot upon my order. Only to distract it when I need you to. Do not fight the troll head-on. Am I understood?”

Kylan bowed his head. “I will not let you down.” Although he was furious at the man, when it came to combat, Kylan still longed to impress his father and earn his admiration or at least his approval.

“Stay out of sight and out of my way.” With that order, the man started toward the bridge while Kylan safely hid himself behind a tree. He nocked an arrow and impatiently waited to take his first shot.

He had never seen a troll before, but he had read about it in some fables. And the descriptions in the stories did not do these terrifying beasts any justice.

Its stomps sent the ground quaking. Kylan could feel his heartbeat in his throat. It was twenty times his father’s size. How could a man take an entire troll down?

But Kylan watched his father approach the troll with the same self-assurance and presence of mind as ever. How could a troll not faze his father in the least?

Was the man afraid of nothing? How could a man live without fears? Kylan was more curious than ever to find out what his father’s fears were. Everyone had to have one.

* * *

The troll stopped and turned all of a sudden when he heard Adrian step onto the bridge.

“Turn around and leave, human!” it roared, baring its sharp, fearsome teeth, which looked as though they could tear through a mount of marble. As forbidding as it appeared, it was not half as minacious as the titans Adrian had bested in the past.

“Yeah, I do not think so,” he spat, tossing the tomahawk in his hand. The troll, its thick skin as dark as rainclouds, planted a foot as big as a rowboat into the floor of the bridge as a warning.

“You dare to challenge me, mortal man?!”

Adrian gripped his jaw. In a guttural voice, he said, “Do I… look like a mortal man to you?”

The troll drew its mouth open and roared as loud as thunder—full, deep and powerful enough to shake the ground and ripple the water of the river.

“You have chosen death,” the troll rumbled and charged forward with its horned head held out. “Prepare to die!”

Adrian did not flinch from where he stood and waited for the troll to get close enough to vault forward. Leaping off the ground, he grabbed onto one of the troll’s horns and swung onto the back of its head, straddling it between his legs.

“No! Get off me!” the troll cried, threshing and floundering about, nearly stumbling over the railing of the bridge.

“Boy!” Adrian called out, ordering Kylan to take his shot now.

The boy acted at once. “Where should I shoot, Father?!”

“The eye, boy! Take out its eye!”

Kylan drew the bowstring and took aim before releasing the arrow he had nocked. As it plunged through the troll’s eyeball, the beast staggered back, howling in agony.

“I will kill you! Pest!” it snarled at Kylan and started careering towards him, all the while bellowing at the arrow stuck in its eye.

“Run, boy!”

As Kylan bolted away, Adrian took hold of the troll’s horn in one hand while the other gripped the axe, which he soon drove into the troll’s skull, hacking it open.

The troll’s wails blared through the woods, causing flocks of birds to wing away from the trees. “I will destroy you!” the beast bayed as Adrian leaped off its head, still clinging to the tomahawk that was rammed in its skull. Using the momentum, Adrian stomped his booted feet into the troll’s face before bounding off of it and diving back in. It took a few stomps to bring the troll down.

Crashing onto the floor of the bridge, the troll bleated in defeat as Adrian collected himself up and yanked the axe out of the troll’s bleeding head.

He then tossed the axe aside to crouch down and slide his hands under the felled troll. He groaned and swore as he lifted the troll with his bare hands. It weighed a lot, but it was not more than what Adrian’s strength could handle.

He growled as he hurled the wounded beast over the railing of the bridge and into the river. Though the stream was not deep enough to drown the monster, its current was strong enough to carry it away.

It wasn’t until Adrian had retrieved his tomahawk did he realize that he was covered in the troll’s blood. Hands, clothes, possibly face, too. He sighed and tiredly walked back to the trees to gather his knapsack.

“Boy?” he called but received no answer.

Turning around, he looked for his son in a panic.

“Boy!”

“I’m here!” Kylan huffed as he jumped off a tree’s branch. Adrian breathed again. “That was… epic!”

Adrian said nothing to that.

“You picked up the entire troll!” the boy remarked in awe and gasps. “You are so strong!”

Adrian almost smirked at the boy’s childlike wonder, but he managed to refrain. “Come. I must wash this filth off me.” He paused and looked back at his son. “That was… good shot.”

Kylan grinned. “Really? Better than shooting Dreygurs’ eyes.”

Adrian nodded and proceeded toward the river.

“Can I take a bath, too?” the boy asked as they made their way down the riverbank. “I think I stink.”

“You do not.”

“What if I do?” Kylan frowned.

“Warriors should not care about what their pits smell like.”

The boy scoffed then. “That explains a lot.”

Adrian cocked an eyebrow at him.

Kylan exhaled heavily. “I just want to… smell good for… Jongin.”

Adrian stopped and glowered at the boy. “The witch has no business troubling himself with what you smell like, boy.”

“Yes. Maybe. But he smells so… nice. Like herbs and stuff. I do not want to stink. Or he won’t be my friend.”

Adrian was not sure what to make of his son’s naivety. He huffed and shook his head. “Take your bath for your friend if you want. I do not mind.”

“All right!” Grinning, the boy started stepping out of his clothes at once, tossing his oversized cloak aside. He wasted no time in stripping down to nothing before immediately jumping into the river. “It’s cold!”

Adrian stood still for a while, watching his son cavort about in the water, livelier than the boy had ever been. He did not seem ill or slow. Today, he was like any other boy.

“So, trolls are real!” Kylan said, flapping his arms on the surface of the water. “I thought they were just monsters in children’s stories.”

Adrian took off his boots and washed the blood off them before putting them aside. “They are as real as the day,” he said, removing his shirt next. “And this one was not all that strong or dangerous.”

“Could you fight one that is stronger?”

Adrian nodded. “Trust me, boy. I will protect us no matter what it takes.”

Kylan splashed around in the water while Adrian stepped out of the rest of his clothes. “Will you also… protect Jongin like that?”

Adrian climbed into the river along with his clothes to have them washed. “The witch? Why would I need to protect him?”

“Well,” the boy drawled. “He agreed to help us, didn’t he? He said that he will accompany us to show us a safer path to the mountains.”

It was what the witch had told Kylan this morning when the boy woke up with the red fox curled up on top of him for warmth. He had been pleasantly surprised to wake up to the sight of the little fox.

“He is a witch, boy,” said Adrian. “He can protect himself.”

“But if he cannot, will you protect him, too?”

Adrian scrubbed the blood stains off his shirt in the water and scowled to himself. “The witch is _not_ my responsibility.”

The boy was quiet for a length. “Am I?”

Adrian paused and raised his head to look at Kylan, who was frowning at him. “You are my son,” he said gruffly. “You are my only responsibility right now.”

The boy looked away, lips parted as though he were panting. “Only your _responsibility_.”

Adrian did nothing but stare at the boy for a long moment with a lump in his throat. “Boy—”

He was cut off the witch, who appeared from the trees, clad in a black cloak. Behind him, the baby fox followed with springy steps, wagging its bushy red tail.

When the witch drew the hood of his cloak down, his furious eyes quickly searched for Adrian in the water. “You!” he yapped, sounding annoyed.

“Oh, no,” Kylan gasped, looking to the pile of clothes on the bank of the river. He quickly scrambled out of the water and ran to gather his clothes before the witch could catch him while he was buck naked. Adrian wondered why the boy was so affected by the witch.

The witch’s attention, however, was on Adrian as he stomped down the riverbank with his hands clenched at his sides. “Where is the troll?” he demanded, halting in his tracks.

Adrian dropped his gaze back to the bloodstains he was trying to wash off and nonchalantly said, “I killed it.”

For a few minutes, the witch said nothing as he glowered at Adrian, as though he were hoping to obliterate Adrian’s existence with his gaze.

“What are you pouting about?” Adrian grumbled, dipping his head into the water to clean his hair.

“You… killed… my troll,” the witch said.

“It was in my way.”

“It was _your_ troll?” asked Kylan, once he was done clothing himself. The witch did not take his glaring eyes off Adrian.

“Yes. He protected the Red Woods from invaders,” said the witch. “He isn’t like the other trolls. I had him domesticated.”

“He did not look very domesticated to me,” said Adrian, wiping the beads of water from his face as he started to climb out of the river.

“He is. If he had been dangerous, my spell would have steered you away from him. You must have provoked him. I told you to wait for me at the bridge,” the witch said exasperatedly.

Kylan walked over to the witch and hesitantly took hold of the witch’s cloak. “We are very sorry,” he muttered, frowning deeply. “Again. We didn’t know.”

The witch huffed heavily, rubbing his temples. “Your father is an irascible, insufferable, surly old—”

“I’d watch your pretty mouth, if I were you,” Adrian cut him short with the warning. When the witch turned to look at him again, his fierce scowl immediately dissolved into shock. His eyes dropped to Adrian’s toned chest first that was dusted with damp hairs. Then they skidded along the trail of hairs down to Adrian’s muscled abdomen and lingered there for a moment too long.

He cleared his throat and averted his gaze before he could let it fall too low. Not even his tan skin could hide the flush that spread over his cheeks then. Adrian gripped the wet clothes in his hands tightly, annoyed by the fact that the witch was blushing on his account. Adrian did not think that there was anything worth blushing about in this situation.

The witch managed to keep his eyes to himself as Adrian strode past him to get a clean shirt out of the knapsack.

“We are sorry, Jongin,” Kylan said again.

“I-It’s… all right,” the witch stuttered. “It was not your fault. You did not know any better.”

“How is it that you are powerful enough to control a troll, witch?” Adrian asked, turning around once he had pulled on his pants. The witch did not look at him, however.

“I did not control him,” the witch replied. “I only… appealed to his ego. I doubt the same trick works with you.”

Adrian scoffed. The witch glanced at him then. His eyes immediately fell to Adrian’s hands that were knotting the laces of his pants. The witch dropped his gaze to the fox Kylan picked up into his arms.

“You brought Qinto along!” the boy exclaimed excitedly.

“Yes. He still hopes to find his mother.”

That saddened Kylan. “Wish I could tell him.”

“It’s better that you don’t,” said the witch. “Sometimes, it is good to have something to hope for. It is all that can help someone get through life.”

“There is a difference between hope and false hope,” Adrian spat.

The witch scowled at him again. “Will you put a shirt on already?!”

Both Adrian and Kylan pinned the witch with a curious look then. Adrian was not sure how he would make this journey without ripping the witch’s head off.

Pulling the new shirt on, he stuffed the damp shirt into the knapsack after wringing it.

“What is that?” the witch inquired, walking over to Adrian. He was looking at the big bundle in the knapsack. Adrian ignored him and picked the knapsack up after lacing his shirt.

“Let’s get going.” He looked to Kylan and nodded his head toward the bridge.

As they crossed the bridge, Adrian could feel the witch’s piercing eyes on the nape of his neck.

“How long have trolls been around?” asked Adrian.

“For as long as the Walkers have,” answered the witch.

“Someone is doing this,” Adrian noted as the witch caught up with him.

“Possibly,” the witch sighed. “It is all tied with the end of days. Perhaps you are right to want to leave this realm.” He kept his voice low enough for Kylan not to hear. Besides, the boy had fallen behind, distracted by the playful baby fox.

“We are not leaving for good,” Adrian said through his teeth. “My… realm is not safe for Kylan.”

“I doubt a realm with a monster infestation would be any safer.”

“These monsters I can protect him from,” said Adrian. “The monsters in my realm… I am not sure I am strong enough to battle them anymore.”

The witch was silent for a moment. “Gods.”

Adrian nodded with a bitter taste in his mouth. He shoved the dreadful memories away before they could form images before his eyes.

“This realm,” Adrian then added. “has become my home.”

“I’m not sure you would even have a home to return to,” the witch said. “The end of days is coming.”

“You sound so certain.”

The witch frowned and looked away. “It is the only explanation for the plagues.”

“Who will be bringing this so-called end of days?” Adrian asked, realizing that the witch knew more than he was letting on.

The witch raised his eyes to meet Adrian’s solemnly. Then in a low, strained whisper, he said, “The old gods.”

Adrian had not troubled himself with the matters of the gods of this realm. All that he knew was that they did not live among the mortals and the old gods had long forsaken this realm.

“Who are these old gods?” asked Adrian.

“Thyldir, Hemes, Idohr and Aeyr.”

Adrian gritted his teeth. One of those names rang a bell and brought forth a sickening memory. “Aeyr,” he muttered under his breath.

“He is the God of War,” the witch said. “He is a titan with the head of a lion.”

“But the old gods had forsaken the realm long ago. Why do they want it back?”

“They do not,” sighed the witch. “But this is a realm they had brought into existence. Through myriads of effort. And to see its people shift allegiance to new religions and faithlessness has made them bitter and vindictive. They prophesised a horrid end for the realm and its inhabitants, which will be delivered by a great monster.”

“Monster?” Adrian arched an eyebrow.

“I do not know what sort of a monster it is. But it is believed that it will bring total destruction. It is the final blow. The old gods have already begun their annihilation. The undead, the trolls, the other creatures of the night, and the countless diseases that have been spreading through the realm, killing the people little by little.”

“So, it is a punishment.”

The witch nodded. “In a way.”

“The old gods sound like proper assholes.”

The witch smiled weakly. Adrian glanced away with a lockjaw. “Some of the people have been attempting to appease the old gods with tributes and sacrifices. But it has only made the old gods angrier.”

“I suppose gods in all realms are the same.” Adrian exhaled a heavy breath. “They are all false.”

The witch pinned him with a curious look then. “Even when you are one of them?”

“I never claimed myself to be true,” Adrian replied sternly. “I was false. I have _been_ false. I am not that anymore. And I suggest that you stop insinuating that I am one.”

“A god can be false. He can even pretend to be a man in a realm that does not know him,” the witch said softly. He was looking at Adrian with a gaze that tightened Adrian’s chest. Strange. “But a hero will always be a hero.”

“If you think that I am a hero,” Adrian spat. “you have never been more wrong in your life, witch.”

“Am I?” the witch smirked. “Perhaps you are being modest.”

The smug smile was quickly wiped away by Adrian’s response. “You are wrong. Because every history book with my name in it, calls me a villain.”

The witch sombrely watched Adrian stomp away as he fell behind, face paling a little.

* * *

# Quest Six

**Trouble in Town.**

When they stopped to rest eventually, Adrian sat down and sharpened his tomahawk with a whetstone while the boy and the witch, along with the damn fox, sat a few feet away from him, engaged in a conversation that seemed to have Kylan grinning and laughing. As much as Adrian tried to ignore them, he did not like the fact that the boy was getting too attached to the witch. It was hard not to like the witch, however. Especially when the boy had never made a friend before. He was right. Adrian never even talked to him unless he was taking lessons. The witch was warm and friendly, and he had interesting stories to share.

Adrian had plenty of interesting stories himself, but they were most certainly not the kind of stories that would make the boy happy. Hell, they were stories that Adrian wished to forget.

The witch raised his gaze and found Adrian staring at him. Scowling, Adrian looked away and aggressively drew the whetstone over the axe head.

“That isn’t a weapon befitting a warrior,” the witch commented as he walked up to Adrian and leaned back against the tree Adrian was sitting under.

“The weapon should never define the warrior,” Adrian replied in a cool tone. “Even a stalk of grass would be a deadly weapon in the hands of a skilled warrior.”

“And I suppose you are one.”

“I killed your troll, didn’t I?”

“I am still mad about that.”

Adrian nearly smirked, but he held himself.

The witch dropped to a crouch beside him. “You hate witches.”

“Clearly.”

He could tell that the witch was frowning. “Why?”

“They are slimy bastards.”

“You are a jerk.”

“Duly noted.”

The witch shot back up to his feet, huffing and puffing again. “Just so that we are clear,” he spat. “I am helping the boy. Not you.”

Adrian did not respond as he continued sharpening his axe.

The witch sighed. “We are heading towards a human town. We should get something to eat and drink there.”

Adrian nodded to that.

* * *

“Can you do all sorts of magic?” Kylan inquired when Jongin returned to sit with him. He plucked another berry from the stalk and held it out to Qinto. The fox’s whiskers tickled Kylan’s fingers as it ate from his hand.

“Well, no,” said Jongin. “I cannot. My magic has its limits.”

Kylan chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “Can you bring… someone back to life?”

Jongin paused to stare at him before his expression softened into a pitiful frown. “No, I’m afraid not. That power resides with the dark witches. But even they do not possess the cosmic power to bring someone who has been dead for years back to life.”

“Oh.” Kylan hung his head, keeping his eyes on Qinto. He felt a hand on his shoulder after a while.

“Kylan,” Jongin sighed. “There isn’t a power in this world that can bring your mother back.”

“I know,” he muttered. “I don’t want her… back for good. I mean, I just want to see her. I want to… know what she was like. What she looked like.”

“Why don’t you ask your father about her?”

Kylan let out a lifeless snort. “He never talks about her. He hates it when I talk about her, too. He just… bursts and shuts me out whenever I mention my mother.”

Jongin blinked and straightened up, turning his head to glance at Kylan’s father, who was resting his eyes, head leaned back against the trunk of a tree.

“I don’t even know her name,” Kylan whispered, his eyes stinging with tears. Quickly wiping them, he stood up from the log he was perched on. “I want to take a walk. I won’t go far. I promise.”

Jongin bowed his head. “I’ll know if you do.” He smiled.

There was something about the witch that made Kylan feel safe. He felt safe around his father, too. But not necessarily comfortable. Jongin, on the other hand, was nice and gentle. Kylan liked that. He was not afraid of this witch, even though his father had warned him to be cautious around Jongin.

As he walked away, he saw Jongin gazing at his father almost forlornly.

He kicked a stick out of the way as he trudged past the trees. He found a small, narrow stream and walked towards it. Reaching its shore, he dropped to his knees and forlornly gazed at the flowing water.

If even witches could not help him see his mother just once, there was no hope for him. He supposed he could always die and hope to see her in heaven. But he was not sure if he would even make it to heaven. His father was definitely not going to heaven. And the more Kylan tried to emulate him, the more he knew he would become a heartless, cold man like his father.

For the first time in his life, there was warmth and smiles. And they were from Jongin. Kylan would give anything to have the witch around for a bit longer. His little witch friend.

He picked himself from the ground and wandered back into the trees.

A small smile crept up to his face when he realized Qinto had been following him. “Here, boy,” he chuckled, picking the fox up into his arms. Qinto was furry and warm, and he smelled like the forest. Kylan was still full of guilt for what he had done to Qinto’s mother.

Something between the trees caught Kylan’s attention next. He raised his head and narrowed his eyes at the trees. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a figure move in the shadows.

Lowering Qinto back to the ground, he drew the dagger from his boot and held it out. “Who… Who’s there?” he called out to the trees.

Something rustled. Kylan swallowed hard and took a step forward. Though he hoped that it was not a Dreygur, he would still fight it if it came to it. His father had once told him that only a fool would fight a fight he knew he’d lose. But he had never seen his father run from any fight. Not that he had ever lost any either.

Kylan was not going to run away from a slow, abominable Dreygur. He was better than a stupid Dreygur. Or at least that was what he believed.

But as he gazed into the darkness, he saw the familiar violet eyes that had taken him aback earlier. He gasped. “Come out!” he yapped at whoever that was hiding behind the tree.

Even in the dark of the woods, the boy’s fair hair glinted bright as he poked a head out. Kylan stopped dead in his tracks, mouth falling open at the strange boy, who was mostly naked, excepting his lower body that was covered by a skimpy loincloth. His skin was paler than Kylan’s. He was nearly Kylan’s height, too.

“Who are you?” Kylan asked when he finally found his voice. “Why are you following me?”

The boy rubbed an arm with a hand, head hung low. His blonde hair fell over his vividly coloured eyes. Kylan lowered his knife and blinked at the boy.

“I asked you who you are,” he demanded. He hated how small and childish his voice sounded compared to his father’s.

Raising his head, the boy briefly met Kylan’s gaze before he hurriedly turned on his heel and ran away, disappearing into the darkness. Kylan called after him, asking him to wait, but he was gone.

Astounded and bewildered, Kylan returned to Jongin, sticking his dagger back in his boot.

“What are you doing?” he asked when he found Jongin knelt near his father with a hand hovering a few inches above his sleeping father’s chest.

The witch sighed and withdrew his hand before slowly rising to his feet. “I was trying to understand the… layers under which your father hides.” He frowned. “They are so thick that not even I can penetrate.”

Kylan had no clue whatsoever what that meant. “You probably should not bother him when he’s asleep. He already doesn’t like you much.”

Jongin’s lips pressed into a thin line then. “He doesn’t, does he?” He sounded disappointed.

Kylan shook his head. “But I like you.” He smiled.

Jongin mirrored his smile. “I like you very much too, Kylan.”

“And don’t feel bad. He does not like anybody.”

Jongin chuckled as they sat down together. Qinto jumped into Jongin’s lap. “He must have liked someone enough. Or you won’t be here.”

Kylan shrugged. “I don’t know. He never talks about Mother.”

“Well,” Jongin muttered, draping an arm around Kylan’s shoulders. “Everyone grieves differently. Some mourn loudly, others do it in silence.”

Kylan leaned into the witch’s warm embrace for that it was the first time he had ever gotten one. And it felt wonderful. Kylan thought of telling Jongin about the boy he had met earlier. But for some strange reason, he did not.

It was a secret. _His_ secret. He had a secret!

Exciting.

* * *

Adrian roused at sunup in a panic. He had not planned to fall asleep, leaving Kylan under the witch’s supervision, but he must have dozed off unknowingly.

When he woke, however, Kylan was curled up in a ball at his side on a blanket, sound asleep, swathed in the heat radiating from Adrian’s body. Adrian watched the boy for a while with a heaviness in his heart before bringing a hand to stroke the boy’s head. He tried to be as gentle as he could with his big, rough fingers that had more experience wielding weapons than administering affection.

When Kylan stirred in his sleep, throwing an arm over his father’s leg, Adrian quickly withdrew his hand and sighed. No one had ever run their hands through his own hair. Affection and love were quite alien to Adrian.

All that he was familiar with was war.

“I saw that,” he heard the witch say. Adrian sharply turned his head to glare at the witch, who was leaning against a tree with the cowl of his cloak drawn over his head.

Rising to his feet, Adrian picked up his tomahawk. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

“Even gods need rest every now and then.”

Adrian pinned the witch a hard glower. “Do not call me that.”

“Then do not call me ‘witch’.”

Adrian gritted his teeth and turned away from the witch to grab the waterskin from his knapsack. He had had the waterskins refilled before he left the witch’s hovel.

“It is quite curious.”

“What is, _witch_?” Adrian spat.

The witch huffed and pulled the hood down to meet Adrian’s eyes as he took hold of Adrian’s arm and turned him around. When Adrian harshly yanked his arm away from the witch’s gentle grip, the boy’s brows furrowed into a downhearted frown. He cleared his throat, as though to hide his dismay, and took a step away from Adrian.

“You,” the witch answered. “You hate yourself, yet you are teaching the boy how to be just like you. You are teaching him to fight, to hunt. You have put a weapon in his hands before he has even turned seven. You teach him to war.”

Adrian lunged at the witch then. His reaction caught the witch off his guard. Adrian’s hand came up to the witch’s neck, fingers clamping around it with brute force as he shoved the witch back up against a tree.

“Do not lecture me on my parenting, witch!” Adrian hissed through the teeth he bared at the boy, snarling. The witch had stopped breathing as he stared into Adrian’s blazing eyes, his lips parted in shock. “I do not teach him to war. I teach him to _survive_.”

His fingers tightened around the witch’s neck. His skin was burning against Adrian’s callused hand. His pulse was pounding against the thumb. He did not look frightened. Just very, very stunned.

“He is only… seven,” the witch whispered.

Adrian’s eyes bored into the witch’s then. “Do you know what I was doing when I was seven? I was tied to a pole, flogged until the skin on my back came off, bloody and ruined. It happened to me every other day. I was my father’s bastard and he saw to it personally that I regretted my existence. I was ripped apart and put back again and again. He cared naught for me. Not until I grew into my strength. Not until I became his monster. The mightiest weapon of his army that ravaged realms. I took my first victim when I was five. At eight, I killed my first god. At thirteen, I battled my first titan and razed him to the ground. My father made me kill and kill and _kill_. Those who were evil _and_ those who were innocent. I did not care _._ Do not speak to me about how a father should or should not raise his son.”

The witch’s eyes were limpid, glistening with tears by the time Adrian released his neck and retreated. He took a moment to catch his breath before he looked up at Adrian, horrified.

“Adrian,” the witch croaked out at length. “I… I didn’t know—”

“Leave if you disapprove of my ways, witch,” Adrian spat. “But if you mean to stay, do not push me. My patience is not as thin as it used to be, but it does have its limits.”

The witch hung his head as Adrian stomped away. He could taste the fire in his mouth.

He knew that he was not a great father to Kylan. But to hear it coming from someone else boiled his blood.

“Boy,” Adrian called, shaking his son awake. “Up now. The day has begun.”

Kylan groaned as he tossed onto his back. He slowly cracked an eye open and pulled a face at Adrian. “Already?”

“Hm.” Adrian rose back to his full height and picked up his cloak.

“Where is Jongin?” the boy gasped, sitting upright and rubbed his eyes on the hilt of his palms. Adrian did not answer his question as he gathered the rest of his things to get moving.

“I am here,” the witch answered, walking over to Kylan, who instantly sprung up to his feet and hurried to the witch. He threw his arms around the witch’s waist and buried his face in the witch’s belly.

“I was afraid you had left.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” said the witch. Adrian scowled at the way they were embracing each other.

“Boy,” he growled. “Gather your bow and quiver. We are leaving.”

“Yes, Father.” Kylan sighed and did as he was told.

* * *

Adrian had not bothered to even look in the witch’s way once they had started moving again. He was still fuming from what the witch had said to him earlier. He would not have been so affected if the witch had condemned any of his other flaws. But this particular one wounded him. Because he knew it was the truth.

Kylan, on the other hand, would not stop talking to the witch. He had a hundred questions about everything. But he mostly wanted to get to know the witch better. However, though the witch answered every one of his questions, his answers were either vague or evasive. Adrian wondered if the witch was keeping secrets, too. He cared not about that. So long the witch was true to the word he had given Adrian, there was no need for a confrontation.

The trees thinned as they advanced, and Adrian soon spied a dirt road ahead. He paused and dropped to a crouch to investigate the prints in the dirt.

“It’s frequented. Humans and horses. And wheels,” he remarked. “The town must be nearby.”

“It is,” the witch said with a small tremor in his voice. He drew the cowl over his head again. “I am not… welcome there. So, I would appreciate it if neither of you outed me as a witch.”

“Why?” Kylan asked, eyes widened.

“People… do not take witches kindly.” Even in the shadow of his hood, Adrian could see the frown playing on the witch’s brows. “They detest witches.”

“Is that why you don’t have any human friends?” asked Kylan.

The witch nodded sadly. “If I’m discovered, they would stone me and burn me alive.”

Kylan gasped. “We will protect you, Jongin!”

Adrian pinned his son with a glower. “No, we will not. His enemies are not our enemies. Those who do not stop us are not of our concern.”

Kylan mirrored Adrian’s disapproving scowl. “Fine. _I_ will protect you, Jongin.”

“That is very kind of you, Kylan,” the witch said before he glanced up at Adrian, still frowning apologetically. Adrian ignored him and marched along the road, heading for the town.

The overcasts that shrouded the sun came with a grim omen and endless grey. All light of the day faded with every step they advanced toward the town. It was as though the sun refused to enter the human settlement.

Kylan stuck close to Adrian and the witch, trying to keep up with their strides as he walked between them. The witch grew increasingly nervous as they neared the town. He kept pulling at his cowl and cloak, trying to conceal the tattoos inked to his arms.

Adrian would not take responsibility for the witch’s safety. He was not forcing the witch to go into the human town. He could turn away. But then Adrian would not receive the aid he was promised. It was all for Kylan’s sake. So, he refrained himself from snapping at the witch again.

“You are a witch,” Kylan said, however, after a moment. “Why must you be afraid of the people?”

The witch’s voice quivered when he spoke. “They are many,” he muttered. “And they are… someone’s father or mother. Brother or sister. Someone’s child. I cannot kill them all just because… they misunderstand me.”

He looked at Adrian then. He had a paining gaze, which Adrian realized he hated. The witch’s eyes were not the only thing that annoyed Adrian, but they were on the top of the list.

Something about those eyes ached Adrian’s heart.

A heart that never felt anything eternally.

It was colder close to the outskirts of the town. Kylan wound his arms around his shivering body. “Brrr,” he let out. “It’s cold here.”

“The people here,” the witch said. “have lost most of their hope since the Walkers and the ghouls came. They live in abiding fear. These are dark times.”

“What are… ghouls?” asked the boy.

“Yes. Terrible creatures of the night. But fret not. They only come at night to feast on corpses.”

“So, we are safe from them as long as we stay alive,” Adrian said to his son. “No better motivation to not die.”

Kylan stared at him, wide-eyed for a moment too long.

Adrian arched an eyebrow down at him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” the boy muttered, a confused smirk dancing nervously on a corner of his lips. “You just made a joke.”

Adrian stayed mum.

“You never joke,” Kylan added. “That was funny.”

The witch was looking at Adrian again with a softer gaze. Damn it.

Kylan slid closer to Adrian as the horrid sight of the town came into view. It was so gloomy that Adrian could barely see past the fog that washed the grey of the town. The buildings appeared to be derelict. The stench of mud and all things rotten had the chilly air contaminated. Adrian wondered how people could possibly go about living in this dingy rathole. The witch was right. There was not much hope left in this place.

“It smells awful,” the boy commented. “Do we have to eat here?”

“If we are lucky,” said Adrian. Kylan frowned.

As they walked into the town, the witch held his head low. The fox trotted after them with its head ducked as well, nervously glancing around.

The alleys were teeming with vagrants and strays. Both covered in mange and filth. When the people on the streets finally noticed the presence of outsiders, they discontinued their chores to stand still and gawk. Kylan shuddered and hurried to his father’s side.

“They look scarier than Dreygurs,” he whispered.

“Shh,” Adrian hushed him.

But he was not wrong. The people, living in fear and faithlessness, looked as though they were starved for days and had slept on beds of dirt. Their weathered eyes followed Adrian. Some of them seemed to be in awe, others looked like they had been spooked.

The witch did not have to worry about being discovered. Adrian grabbed the attention everywhere he went, and more often than not, it was not the good kind of attention.

“Do they have money on them?” he heard a beggar rasp to another behind a wagon of rotten potatoes. He quickly retreated when Adrian looked in his way with a sharp, threatful gaze.

They ambled past a general store and a closed bakery. Soon, Adrian spotted the signboard of an inn. _Ye Olde Pike Inn._ It was open for business, but it did not look like it could attract regular customers.

“Would we get something to eat in there?” he asked the witch gruffly.

“Nothing too appetizing, but yes,” said the witch.

Adrian hoped to get a pint of beer, too. He had long forsaken the desire to wallow in indulgence and luxury, but perhaps a beer or two could help him placate his exasperation towards the witch.

“Shy, are you?” a man, dressed in sooty clothes, asked when the witch passed him.

“That looks shiny,” another said, looking to Adrian’s tomahawk. “I’m in the mood for some fox stew.”

“No,” Kylan whined and quickly picked the witch’s pet fox up into his arms, worriedly frowning at the men and women who started to close in on them. “Father.”

“Quiet, boy,” Adrian said in a low voice. Neither he nor Kylan came across people often since they lived in their own woods far away from big human settlements. Every month, one or two traders would travel past their cabin. Some peddled tools for smithery, others sold clothes and books, which Adrian often purchased for Kylan. Sometimes, the merchants would be interested in the hides and pelts that Adrian offered.

These townsfolks were far from what Kylan was used to. Each and every one of them, even the children, wore a snarl on their lips. Everywhere Adrian looked, he saw nothing but filth and desolation.

“Got a coin?” a woman grated, throwing herself onto the witch, who blenched away as she tried to grab his arm. His hood fell from his head then.

“Pretty,” a man chimed, flashing a toothy grin, as he approached the witch with a few other men. His teeth were all rotten and chipped, those that were not missing at least. “Haven’t had a good fuck in a while.”

The witch shuddered and moved away from the man, only to bump into another that caught his arm. “Fucking our women is the same as fucking a pig,” he spat, sporting the same suggestive smirk as the other man. “Where are you from, pretty bird?”

“I suggest you let go of me,” the witch said, his voice quivering a little. “and no one will get hurt.”

The man laughed. Adrian kept walking.

“What’s this?” another man asked, noticing the symbols inked to the witch’s arms.

“Who cares?!” the first man yapped. “You rob the other two. Let’s take this one to the back of the alley.”

“Aye.”

Adrian stopped then as one of the men blocked his path. He pinned the shorter man with a wrathful scowl, which instantly had the man doubting his next move.

“Get… out… of my way,” Adrian spat through his clenched teeth, hands balled into fists at his sides.

Another man came forth and said, “Got coins on you? Give them and your bags, and we’ll leave you be.”

Behind him, Adrian heard the witch rasp, “No!”

When he looked back, he saw the witch struggling against three men, who were pulling at his cloak and tugging at his arms. One even reached up and tried to touch the witch’s face.

Kylan dropped the fox to the ground and ran over to the witch, screaming, “Let him go!” He quickly unslung his bow and nocked an arrow at the men.

They laughed at him. “What are you going to do with that toy, small fry?” one of them scoffed derisively at him. Kylan’s face crumpled into an angrier frown.

“I will split your head open!” the boy shouted.

It was the first time Adrian noted such a rage in the boy. And he saw himself. And it was the first time he was truly disappointed in his son.

The townsmen guffawed in amusement, though their laughter sounded more macabre than joyful. Nothing about them seemed to be alive, except maybe their libido looking at the way they were groping the witch.

Adrian was certain that the witch had not anticipated _this_ hairy outcome, which was surely better than being stoned and burned to death. He looked as though he were suffocating, trying not to harm those men and out himself as a witch. Meanwhile, Kylan was increasingly losing his patience, too.

Adrian grabbed his son’s bow then and yanked it away.

“What are you doing?!” the boy cried at Adrian, clawing at him to get his bow back.

“Calm yourself, boy!” Adrian snapped at him. “This anger will do you no good.”

“I am not angry!”

“Do not speak back to me.”

Kylan dropped his arms back to his sides and scowled viciously at Adrian. They were surrounded by men who were clearly up to no good. Adrian saw the witch whimpering as he tried to break free from the men’s grip.

“Give me your belongings!” another bayed at Adrian. “Or else—”

He was cut off as Adrian’s hand shot up to his neck. He croaked pathetically, neck caught in Adrian’s crushing grip. Shoving him aside, Adrian stomped forward and grabbed one of the men, who were harassing the witch, by his hair at the back of his head and yanked him away from the witch.

In one swift movement, he held the man’s throat at the edge of his axe’s head. “Now, believe me when I say, I can and will kill every single one of you and not break a sweat if you as much as laid another finger on him,” he said, voice a low threat.

The sleazy man raised his hands in defeat, his eyes full of horror. That was when another slashed Adrian’s back, on his left shoulder blade, with a rusty knife. When he turned around with his teeth bared, the man slashed him again on the chest, cutting through the thin fabric of his shirt. Adrian backhanded the man across the face, sending him flying to the ground before he pinned the man down with a boot on his neck.

“We come in peace,” he spat, releasing the other man. “But I am not a very peaceful man if provoked. Do not provoke me again.”

Nodding their heads, the men then picked themselves up and scampered away, though the look on their faces left Adrian slightly unsettled.

“You protected Jongin!” Kylan exclaimed, grinning up at his father. The witch drew the cowl back over his head and kept his head low enough that Adrian could not see his face. Adrian almost asked if he were all right but realized that he had no reason to care.

“I merely avoided a distraction,” Adrian said, starting for the inn again. “There is no need for sentiments.”

“And you’re hurt,” the boy remarked. The cut on his back stung a little, but it did not concern Adrian much. His body had survived greater mishaps. “Are you okay, Jongin?”

“I’m all right,” the witch replied quietly.

* * *

Kylan had never been to an inn before. He had never really been anywhere apart from their woods. All his life, he had hungered for an adventure. Something to get him away from the mundaneness of home, to make him feel less ill, to help him feel alive, to distract him from his sorrows. Now that he was on an adventure, one like no other, he missed the tranquillity of home.

The town was miserable and spine-chilling. The people even more so. He smelled foul things with every breath. He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. He was suddenly not even hungry anymore.

The inn was poorly-lit and empty. The tables and benches had collected dust. Cobwebs adorned every corner of the inn. Only a couple of candles were lit on the innkeeper’s counter, and they barely allowed any light at all.

Kylan jumped a little when he almost stepped on a dead rat splattered on the floor. There were live ones crawling about, too.

“Keep an eye on Qinto for me, will you?” Jongin said to Kylan.

Kylan nodded like a good man in charge of baby-fox-sitting. Qinto was prowling cautiously, not wanting to step on the dead rodents and bugs either.

When the innkeeper finally showed up behind the counter, she gasped loudly in shock. “Customers?!”

Kylan gawked at her as she hurriedly neatened her frizzy, unkempt hair and wiped her grubby hands on her kirtle, which was the dirtiest thing on her.

“Come in,” she said, her voice almost as guttural as a man’s. “Welcome to Ye Olde Pike Inn!”

“We’d like a bed and a meal,” Kylan watched his father say to the innkeeper as he approached her. Though Jongin followed behind him, he maintained the same distance he always did around him.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” asked the innkeeper, arching one of her busy brows. Her gaze shifted from the biggest man in the group to the smallest. Kylan could not even look at her milky eyes. They were as horrifying and yellow as her teeth.

“No, we are not,” his father said curtly. “A bed and a meal.”

“Yes, yes. But do you have payment?”

Fishing out a couple of coins from his pocket, his father tossed them onto the counter. “Will that do?”

“Oh, splendidly,” said the innkeeper, greedily stuffing the coins into her bodice. Kylan grimaced. “Sit down. I’ll bring out something for you to eat.”

When they had found a table to sit at, Kylan picked Qinto up and placed him next to him on the bench. He gave Qinto’s head a pet before he looked up at Jongin, who sat across his father.

“You take your hood down. I don’t think anyone will trouble you now,” Kylan told him. “Father scared them all off pretty good.”

He received a condemning scowl from his father, who was seated beside him. He slowly turned the scowl toward Jongin.

“I did not do it for him,” his father grumbled under his breath.

Kylan shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You did it, anyway.”

“Then I will make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

Kylan grinned. His father had made another joke. Delightful.

The innkeeper eventually came to their table with a tray of food. Kylan had expected something far worse than what they were actually served. The roasted potatoes were cold, but they were not inedible. Along with the potatoes, they were served some braised pork liver, two heels of stale bread and a bowl of parsnip soup.

Kylan dug in immediately. His father handed him a hunk of bread and told him to slow down and that no one was going to take his food away from him. Kylan could not help it, however, as he gobbled the food down.

He fed Qinto a few gobbets of his food while his father chomped on the bread and pork liver. Jongin was watching them eat, having touched none of the food.

Kylan stopped chewing then, realizing that Jongin was not eating. “Why aren’t you eating, Jongin?” he asked.

Jongin smiled weakly. “I am not hungry,” he said.

Kylan looked at his father, who went on as though he had not heard them speak at all. “Okay. If you say so,” Kylan said, returning Jongin’s smile before he went back to his food. Perhaps witches did not have to eat.

Then Kylan saw his father slide the bowl of parsnip soup across the table. Jongin raised his head and stared at the other man, who kept his attention on his plate, for a moment before he dropped his gaze to the bowl before him.

He did not refuse as he picked the bowl up and started drinking the soup in small, shy gulps. That was when Kylan noticed his father raising his gaze to leer at the way the protrusion in Jongin’s throat bob up and down as he swallowed the soup. Scowling, the man promptly looked away when Jongin lowered the bowl again.

Kylan did not miss the way Jongin stared at his father for a long while after that. But his father did not spare him another glance.

Sighing, Kylan tore another hunk from his bread and held it out to Qinto. That was when he saw a shadow move in the window. He gasped, jumping in his seat.

“What is it, boy?” his father asked. Kylan pointed to the window, but the boy from the woods was already gone. He came and went like the wind. But Kylan knew that the boy was real.

What did he want with Kylan? Why was he following him?

“Nothing,” he muttered and continued to stare at the window, wondering if the boy would show up again.

* * *

# Quest Seven

**The Visitor.**

Once they were done with the food, the innkeeper returned to the table with the news that their room was ready. As soon as they were shown to the room, Kylan did not wait to dump his knapsack in a corner and jump onto the bed. The bedframe creaked as though it were about to fall apart. Qinto curled up with him as he sprawled over the pallet.

A single candle was sitting on the windowsill, its flame dancing gracefully against the arid air in the room.

“Sleep,” his father said when he finally stepped into the room after Jongin.

“Should I not wash up first?” Kylan asked, sitting up. His father made a face. Kylan rolled his eyes. “I know. I know.” He rose from the bed and started for the washroom. “A warrior should not care about what his pits smell like,” he mumbled quietly. “But I need to tinkle.”

He wished he had not gone into the loo. He’d have preferred to use the dirt in the woods rather than the filth he had walked into.

When he returned to the room, he found his father and Jongin facing opposite ends of the room. His father was rummaging through his knapsack, and Jongin was removing his cloak.

Kylan wondered if they would ever get along one day. Qinto was already asleep when he lounged back on the bed. “Where will you sleep?” he asked. The bed was barely enough to fit him.

“Do not worry about me,” his father said. “I will manage.”

Kylan blinked. “I was asking Jongin.”

His father turned around to fix him with a glower. “Go to sleep.”

Jongin sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled lovingly at Kylan. No one had ever smiled at him like that. Kylan hoped to have smiles like that in his dream tonight.

He stilled as Jongin pressed a palm to his forehead. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Fine.”

The witch nodded and allowed Kylan to rest his head on the pillow. “If you are feeling poorly, will you let me know?”

Kylan hummed in agreement.

Now that Jongin mentioned it, Kylan did feel rather poorly. He had not paid much attention to his ragged breathing, but now that they were in a confined space, he could hear the slight wheezing in his breaths, and he could feel the ache in his bones. They had been missing for a while.

“Have some pleasant dreams tonight,” said Jongin as he stroked Kylan’s head. Knowing for certain that he would, Kylan let his eyes shut.

* * *

“He is falling sick again,” the witch noted from where he was perched on the bed. Adrian pretended to be occupied with the content of his knapsack, even though he had absolutely nothing to do to bide the time. He could sleep, but he did not trust himself to fall asleep again in the presence of this witch or in this wretched town, in the midst of its malicious dwellers. “Sooner than I anticipated.”

Adrian did not reply.

He heard the witch rise from the bed and make his way over. When he felt the hand on his back, he spun around and caught the witch’s wrist, glaring at him murderously. “Do you wish for an early death, witch?” he spat.

The witch’s eyes were soft, nonetheless. Almost at ease. He was confident that Adrian’s warnings were nothing but idle threats.

His wrist was small in Adrian’s grip. Delicate. Adrian released it when he heard the thoughts running in his head. The witch’s gaze dropped to the gash on Adrian’s chest.

“Let me help you with your wounds,” he offered.

“There is no need for that,” Adrian replied rudely and brushed past the witch.

“I insist,” the witch said, frowning. “You did… save me after all.”

“Fucking hell,” Adrian growled, facing the witch again. “Do you never take no for an answer?”

“No,” the witch said with his arms crossed over his chest. “Not this time. Let me repay you. Then we can be even.”

“I killed your fox and your pet troll. I’d say we’re even.” He rubbed his bearded chin, glancing to his son who was already deep in slumber. “I can heal on my own.”

“Then why are you still bleeding?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not as young anymore.” Adrian sighed. “It takes… longer now.”

Longer than he had thought it would.

The witch shook his head. “Sit down. The knife was covered in rust. The wounds will get infected if it’s not treated right away. And with a bit of magic, you’ll be good as new in no time. And I suggest that you be in your best shape to face what lies ahead on your journey.”

Gnashing his teeth, Adrian contemplated the offer for a moment. He eventually decided that he was not willing to take the chance of falling ill. He needed to be in his best shape at all times.

So, he sat down on the bed, careful not to wake Kylan up. He waited while the witch fetched a cup of water and a small rag from the washroom.

When he returned, he stood before Adrian and blushed. “I… need you to remove your shirt,” he said in a small voice that bothered Adrian greatly.

He almost snapped at the witch for blushing like that for no reason, but he held his tongue. Taking his shirt off, he stared at a wall with his eyebrows knotted in a scowl.

“Can’t you just use magic all the way?” he huffed.

“I could,” was all that the witch said as he soaked the rag in the water before bringing it to Adrian’s chest to wipe away the blood caking his skin on the edges of the laceration. “Let me know if I am hurting you.”

Adrian looked up at him with a daggering look. The witch had a faint smile playing on his lips.

As he drew the rag along the chest, his fingers briefly strayed to an old scar that still remained near Adrian’s sternum. A frown pulled the witch’s eyebrows down.

“Through your… chest?” he asked.

Adrian did not answer. But yes. He did not quite remember when it had happened or who had caused it, but it was not the first time he had been skewered.

He was not sure why he had not snapped at the witch for letting his fingers linger on the scar on the cleft of his chest, teasing the hairs there gently.

Clearing his throat, the witch eventually withdrew his hand.

“Will you get on with it already?” Adrian then said, a little flustered by what had just happened.

“Yes… Turn around.”

Adrian shifted his weight on the pallet, so that his back was accessible for the witch. “You don’t have to do this,” he muttered, feeling slightly unnerved by how close the witch was, by how warm his fingers were as they brushed against Adrian’s back.

“All these scars,” the witch remarked in a soft whisper.

Adrian could heal wounds, but there was little that he could do about the scars the wounds left behind. Besides, it had been so many decades that he had forgotten that they were a part of his body.

“Do they all have a story?” the witch asked.

“Not the kind of the story that would delight you,” Adrian grumbled and gritted his teeth as the witch pressed the damp cloth to his cut.

“I am sorry,” the boy murmured at length. It was easier to hold a conversation when they were not facing each other, Adrian reckoned. The touching did not help, though. Adrian flinched every time the witch’s fingers touched his back. It was not that he was repulsed the touch, but it was because… he rather wanted it.

He could not quite remember the last time he had longed for the warmth of another. Kylan’s mother was not exactly the sort of warmth Adrian had wanted either. That had been a bad path, a terrible wrong.

The witch’s touches were gentle and cautious. His hands did not tremble as they ministered to Adrian’s wounds. Adrian felt himself close his eyes and tilt his head back when the witch ran a hand along his shoulder, gently teasing out the knots of muscle there.

“I am sorry,” the witch said again. “for… what I said in the woods. It was not my place.”

Adrian said nothing to that. Mostly because he was afraid that if he said anything, the moment would be over. He bared a side of his neck when the witch’s hand moved to knead the crook of it. His grip was firm but gentle. Then slowly, the hand slid over Adrian’s shoulder. Adrian remained still as the witch walked his hand down the chest.

“Better?” he asked after a few moments.

Adrian’s eyes flashed open as the witch retrieved his hand. When he looked down at the cut, it had disappeared, leaving no trace of a scar behind. He could no longer feel the cut on his back either.

He rose to his feet and turned around to face the witch. “You’ve got skills, witch,” he said, trying to sound as appreciative as he could.

The witch smiled and bowed his head once. “So I’ve been told.”

He paused to stare at Adrian’s shirtless body before glancing away, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Adrian grabbed his shirt again and pulled it on.

“How will you heal him when you reach your realm?” the witch inquired as Adrian settled down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall.

“We have healers that could gods,” said Adrian. “There is no malady that they cannot heal.”

“You hail from the realm of gods,” the witch said. “Do… mortal people exist?”

Adrian nodded. “They’re weak. Trampled on. But their reverence and fear feed us. There wasn’t exactly harmony between the mortals and the gods, but we made do. I’m not sure how things are now.”

“Why did you leave?”

Adrian dropped his head back on the wall and huffed heavily. “I got tired of it. Of everything.”

It did not begin to describe his reasons for leaving his home, but he was not sure he could trust the witch with his past.

“Perhaps… you and the boy,” the witch said. “are better off finding another realm. This one does not see a good future in the horizon.”

Adrian looked at the witch and saw him frowning. “Why do _you_ stay, then?”

The witch sighed, lifting his head to meet Adrian’s gaze. “When you have lived long enough, lonely and shunned all your life, you would want nothing more than for a graceful end. I don’t think my end could be any more graceful than this.”

“I have been lonely and shunned all my life, too,” said Adrian. “Probably not the way you have. But I know what it is like to not have a purpose to your existence. You’re nothing but a… weapon. A tool of the trade. But then… I found… a meaning to my life eventually.”

He looked to his son who was sleeping soundly on the bed, hugging the baby fox. The witch followed his gaze. “He loves you,” he said. Adrian’s brows rose. “He loves you dearly. Which is why it worries him so much when he disappoints you.”

“The boy must learn everything there is to learn,” Adrian replied. “I have to be severe.”

The witch nodded his head. “I understand now.”

There was a momentary silence between them. Suddenly, Adrian wanted the witch to talk.

And he eventually did. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old _are_ you?”

He wore a curious, amused expression as he asked Adrian that question.

Adrian scoffed. “A hundred and forty-nine, give or take a couple of weeks.”

The witch did not look surprised. “I am five decades younger than that.”

Adrian cocked a brow. “Didn’t know witches practised that sort of magic.”

The witch shrugged. “It has its costs. For what it’s worth, you do not look a day older than forty.” He smiled.

“And that’s supposed to be a compliment?”

The witch chuckled softly. “No.”

“You’ve alone in your little woods for a century?” Adrian asked.

The witch hesitated to answer then. “Not… really. I was somewhere else before I moved to the Red Woods. But it is true that I have been alone all my life. No one has ever… loved me for who I am.”

“No family?”

The witch’s face wilted palpably. His eyes turned sad and glassy. “No,” he answered briefly.

They were silent again.

“Why did you… save me back there? From those… terrible men?” Adrian was asked a moment later. “And don’t tell me that you didn’t. You could have let me handle it myself, and out myself as a witch.”

Adrian exhaled a heavy breath and said, “You looked pitiful.”

“So, you took pity on me? Is that kindness?”

“Consider it mercy,” Adrian spat.

The witch smiled. “In all my existence, I have yet to meet a man like you.”

“What does that mean?”

“A man without greed and vanity. A man who’s so tough and hard on the outside but is kind and caring on the inside. I see a man who tries to be a good father. A man whose ways of showing affection are unconventional and difficult to understand, but there is love within you. And I think the boy deserves to know it, too.”

Adrian felt his chest tighten. No one had ever seen such qualities within him. And certainly, no one had admired him for them. He wondered if the witch knew the details of his past, would he still hold Adrian in such high regards?

“Can I ask you something else?” the witch asked when Adrian did not respond to his accolade.

“Hmm,” he grunted.

“Why do you… hate the gods?”

“There is nothing to like about them,” was Adrian’s quick answer.

“Surely there must be some that you find… tolerable.”

Adrian shook his head. “I do not know a single god from my realm who is completely good. And your realm’s gods are no better. All the gods that I have come across have been up to no good. So, why should I… _tolerate_ them?”

The witch had no reply for that. But a few minutes later, he had another query. “Will you… ever call me by my name?”

“Is that necessary?” Adrian muttered.

The witch blushed once more. “It’s just that… a person’s name is… powerful. It gives them their identity. When you call me… ‘witch’… it feels rather impersonal and… perhaps I would like for us to be more… personal than that.”

Adrian was quiet as his gaze bored into the witch’s. The air in the room was suddenly too droughty to breathe. He studied the witch’s eyes that were lined with black. They revealed the gentleness of his soul. But at the same time, they were overwrought with caution and hesitance.

“We cannot be friends, witch,” Adrian said at last, disappointing the witch once again. “I do not… make friends.”

“Understood,” the witch sighed, picking up the bow Kylan had set aside. “Rakar can upgrade this. The boy has a talent for archery.”

“He has a talent for many things.”

“You do not praise him much when he is awake.”

“I do when he earns it.” He rubbed his beard. “Are you certain that the artificer would be able to repair the Gateway?”

“I am certain,” the witch said. “He is… quite skilled.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“So should you. You can trust me to watch over you.”

“I do not.”

The witch frowned, as though Adrian had just punched a fist through his heart. “Very well. Stay awake as you will.” He jolted up to his feet with a start a handful of seconds later, looking to the closed door with a horrified expression.

Adrian rose to his feet as well as a ruckus broke in the inn. He heard the innkeeper’s screams and curses before he heard thundering footfalls on the floorboards.

“Where are they?!” he then heard a roaring voice in the midst of cries.

The commotion woke Kylan up. “What’s going on?” he asked sleepily, sitting up on the bed.

Adrian picked up his tomahawk. “Stay behind me,” he ordered both the witch and Kylan. It was then when he noticed the rune the witch had spelled onto his palm was glowing alarmingly.

“We need to get out of here,” the witch said. His complexion had turned ashen, as though he had seen a ghost. “Now.”

“I know you’re here!” the man sang, almost cheerily. His footsteps and voice grew louder. Adrian faced the door, ready for a confrontation while Kylan backed away to the window.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Jaw set tight, Adrian walked over to the door and prised it open. The man, who stood before him, was at least two feet shorter than Adrian. He was clad in thick, extravagant wolf pelts and leather. He sported an onyx medallion in the shape of a fang. He bared a set of teeth made of gold when he grinned. His long, black hair was in a braid.

“Aaaaah,” the visitor drawled, licking his lips the way a snake would. “You do look as mighty as you are talked up. Albeit old.”

“What do you want?” Adrian spared no gentility in greeting the stranger.

“What do I want?” the man said, breaking into a hearty laughter that sounded more like mockery. “Why, I want _you_ of course!”

He paused to tilt his head and leer past Adrian at Kylan.

“Oh… Now, that’s curious. _Very_ curious.”

Kylan gasped and further retreated, hiding behind the witch. Adrian took a step forward, blocking the visitor’s view. “Leave,” he warned the man, his voice a growl, his shoulders squared. He did not know who this eccentric man was or why he was here, but if he did not leave immediately, Adrian would not hesitate to split his skull open.

“I came all the way, didn’t I?” the visitor scoffed. “Now, is that any way to treat a visitor?”

Adrian clenched his teeth harder. “You are trying my patience. Believe me when I tell you, you do not want to start a fight you will lose.”

“I most certainly do not,” the man sighed, scratching his beard. “So, why don’t I _make_ you do what I want you to do?”

He grinned from ear to ear then, holding his arms out, as though he were waiting for an embrace.

“You’ll know where to find me,” the visitor said as he took hold of his onyx medallion, wrapping his fingers around it. And just like that, he vanished into thin air, bursting into nothing but palls of black smoke.

Momentarily stunned, Adrian stood still, staring at the dissipating smoke before him. When he raised his gaze, he found the inn in a disarray. The tables and benches were topsy-turvy, shattered glass and spilt drink were strewn all over the floor. The innkeeper looked devastated as she gawked in Adrian’s way, also shocked by the strange visitor’s sudden disappearance.

Then Adrian heard the glass of the window of the room break with an exploding thunder. When he turned around in a frenzy, Kylan cried out for him before a pair of arms burst through the window and grabbed him.

“Father!” he screamed as he was hauled out of the small window he had been standing close to.

“Kylan!” Adrian roared, breaking into a sprint, jostling past the tables and the benches as he raced out of the inn. With his heart in his throat, he ran like hell for his son, but he was too late.

The visitor had the boy, his arms locked around Kylan, who looked at Adrian with wide, fearful eyes. His skin had never looked paler. “Father,” he croaked out as the last thing before he passed out limply in the visitor’s arms.

“Oops,” said the visitor. “I think I squeezed him a little too tight.”

“No! Boy!” Adrian bayed as he lunged forward, axe in hand, ready to behead the man in the most merciless way.

But then, with a cunning smirk and an arrogant wink, the visitor vanished once more, leaving nothing but black smokes behind in the dark of the night, and he took Kylan with him.

“No! No!” Adrian cried at the top of his lungs, slicing through the smoke fruitlessly. “Kylan!” He ran around the inn like a madman for a while. “Boy!”

There was no sign of Kylan or the visitor no matter where he looked in the town. The townspeople slammed their doors shut in fear when he approached them for help.

No. This could not be. Confused and devastated about what had just happened, Adrian dropped to his knees on the ground and tried to catch his breath for a moment.

 _My son… My son…_ he thought helplessly.

His throat was too tight for him to even breathe.

“Adrian,” he then heard the witch’s voice in the distance. He shot up to his feet again and went looking for the witch.

As soon as he had found the bastard, his hand came up to the witch’s neck, slamming him against the wall of an alley. “You stood there!” he barked at the witch. “You stood there and did nothing!”

The witch closed his eyes and struggled to break free for a moment, his hands clinging to Adrian’s hand that was crushing his neck.

“I… couldn’t have,” he wheezed out pathetically. “Adrian, please.”

Releasing his neck, Adrian stepped back, fighting the urge to swing the tomahawk at the witch instead.

The witch rubbed his neck and coughed for a minute, bending forward. Then straightening back up, he met Adrian’s blazing eyes with a pained gaze.

“Your eyes are… on fire. You are attracting attention, Adrian,” the witch said.

“I do not care! I will raze this town down!”

As he turned on his heel, the witch rushed forward and grabbed his arm, though he quickly withdrew his hand, realizing that Adrian’s skin was too hot to the touch.

“How are you…” the witch trailed off, looking down at his scorched palm. Then raising his gaze again, he said, “You must calm down. Nothing will happen to the boy.”

“How do you know that for certain, witch?!” Adrian yapped. “Who was the man?! Why did he take Kylan?!”

The witch swallowed. “I know where he could have taken the boy,” he said.

“Where?!”

“The Ruins of Zaris. The temple.”

“How long to get there?”

“Three days, by horse. Much, much longer on foot.”

Adrian roared, driving a fist through the wall. His hand went through the bricks, shattering them into smithereens, leaving a hole in the wall.

“Rakar would have horses,” the witch said. “We should go to him.”

“Who was he?” Adrian asked again, this time in a slightly calmer tone.

The witch took a moment to answer. “That’s… Ialdir. He is one of… Aeyr’s children.”

So, a god.

In that case, Adrian was going to be very pleased killing him.

“What does he want with me?” he asked.

The witch shook his head. “I do not know. We must hurry. We could get to Rakar by daybreak if we follow the roads from the town.”

* * *

# Quest Eight

**Road to Zaris.**

“Why did he take Kylan to the temple?” Adrian asked sometime later as they trekked up the road. He had managed to calm his rage somehow. And now that he could think straight again, he started to reflect upon what had happened and what might Ialdir’s intentions be.

He could not recall having ever crossed paths with a god named Ialdir. And if he were Aeyr’s son, then he was of this realm, not Adrian’s. How could he know who Adrian was? What exactly did he want with him?

“The Ruins of Zaris,” the witch said, staring at his singed palm. “used to be one of the homes of the gods. Its walls and soil are still imbued with a great source of power. Ialdir will be strongest there.”

“So, he does intend to fight me.”

“I suppose so.”

“But why?”

“ _That_ I do not know.” He looked away from his palm as it healed magically. “But you have to understand that you are walking into his trap.”

“He took my son,” Adrian growled. “I will go to the very depths of hell if I had to. And I will kill him in the most brutal way there is.”

The witch lowered his head. “I’m sorry… there wasn’t much that I can do. Witches do not have the power to battle a god.”

Adrian gritted his teeth, his jaw tight, his hands fisted. “I should not have… hurt you.”

The witch looked up at him with softly then. “Kylan will be all right. He is a brave boy. And he is a survivor and a fighter.”

Adrian tried not to think of how afraid and tormented the boy might be right now, but it was all that he could think about.

“We should hurry,” he said, picking up the pace of his strides.

“You were… on fire back there,” the witch noted. “Is that… your true form?”

“This _is_ my true form,” Adrian spat. “That was… my god form. One that I would like to forsake.”

The witch nodded his head considerately. He held up a hand and conjured a small ball of light to illuminate their path. “It was quite… warlike.”

“In my realm, _I_ was the God of War,” Adrian conceded. The witch halted in his tracks for a moment, gaping at Adrian in shock.

“You… were?”

“The worst of them all.”

They did not speak again for the rest of the night. The fox hurtled after the witch with springy steps, though it looked as despaired as Adrian was. The witch looked no different.

The roads soon disappeared as the hills came into view. The sky was painted in all sorts of hues, signalling the break of day. The sun was rapidly coming up in the east.

“This way,” the witch said, leading the way toward the twin hills.

“What else do you know of this god?” Adrian asked, gathering as much information as he could about the enemy. Anything could give him an advantage.

“Not much,” said the witch. “He is the most mischievous among his brothers and sisters. He is also the least compassionate. He would do anything to please his father.”

“Any weakness?”

“Gods do not have weaknesses.”

Adrian clenched his jaw. “They do,” he said. “They are just very good at hiding them. There is no other being in all universes that could hide secrets better than gods.”

The witch did not make a reply as he marched ahead with the fox tagging behind him. Soon, Adrian spied the bluish grey tent that was standing by the foot of the hills. Along with a furnace and a forge, a few horses surrounded the tent.

“That’s him!” the witch announced. “Rakar!”

The man standing under the tent, attending to his tanning racks, promptly turned his head and glanced in the witch’s way, squinting his eyes.

He was tall, dark-skinned, with a head of thick, black hair and a thin curled-up moustache. “My, my,” he said with an obvious lilt. He hurried out of his tent and ran over to the witch. “Jongin, my beautiful! Long time no see, darling.”

He took the witch’s hand and gave it a couple of kisses.

The witch smiled a diplomatic smile and withdrew his hand. The artificer then looked over to Adrian with a cocked brow. “Who might this handsome beast be?”

“We need your help, Rakar,” the witch said, cutting to the chase. “It is an emergency.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Rakar made a face. “You only come to me when you need something, eh?”

The witch rubbed his arm nervously.

Rakar grinned then. “Well, I am glad to be of service! How can I help? For a price, of course.”

Adrian pushed past the witch. “We want your horses,” he spat.

Rakar looked confused. “I am an artificer! Do I look like I breed and sell horses, brute?”

“Allow me,” said the witch with a sigh. “We need horses to get to Zaris. And we need your nonpareil expertise for something else, too.”

“Nonpareil you say?” Rakar smirked. “Why do you need to go to Zaris?”

The witch glanced at Adrian briefly before he said, “His son has been taken. By Ialdir.”

Rakar fell quiet for a long moment, his jaw fallen slack, his eyes bulged. Then stuttering, he said, “The gods… They’re back?”

“Will you help us or not?” Adrian growled. “I do not have much time or patience.”

Rakar shook his head. “If the gods are involved, count me out. I have enough trouble dealing with Walkers and trolls messing up my business!”

Adrian stared at the other man for a second before he started for the horses.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Rakar screeched after him.

“I am taking your horse.”

“No, you will not!”

“Rakar, please,” the witch then begged. “We desperately need your help. It is the… Gateway in the mountains.”

That stopped Rakar still. “Th-The Gateway?” he let out, astounded. “My great-great-great grandfather helped the gods build that. Before they betrayed him.”

“Only you can help us,” said the witch. “The Gateway is… broken. Your great grandfather helped build it, then he must have a blueprint lying around somewhere.”

Rakar started pacing the ground then, scratching his chin. “You come here out of nowhere with this huge, muscly stranger and tell me that Ialdir is back, and that you need my help to repair the Gateway of the Gods. You have gone barking mad! You are still very enchanting of course, but mad!”

“I do not have the time to chat,” Adrian grumbled and stomped over the horses.

“He cannot just steal my horse, Jongin,” the artificer groused furiously.

“He will if he wants to, unfortunately,” the witch replied. “Civility is not a familiar concept to him.”

Adrian paused to glower at the witch.

Rakar scoffed. “I can see that.”

The witch took the artificer’s hand and smiled coyly at him. “Please, Rakar. Do this for me. Please. The boy is in Ialdir’s possession. And he is… sick. We need to get him to the Gateway to save him. And I… care deeply for the boy. We cannot do this without your help.”

Rakar surveyed the witch’s pained expression for a length. “You truly seem to be in a pickle here.”

The witch nodded. “And only you and your kindness can get us out of this conundrum. Please.”

Rakar grunted glumly. “All right,” he snarled. “For you, Jongin. Anything. But only if the boor you brought here with you keeps his hands off my things!”

The witch gave the artificer a kiss on his cheek, smiling. “You are truly the best there is, Rakar.”

“Aye. I am. Now, let me pack up and get some tools for the road.”

While Rakar busied himself with preparing for the journey ahead, the witch walked over to Adrian. “You must work on your cordiality.”

“This is not the time for politeness,” spat Adrian.

“All this rage and impatience will only slow us down, Adrian,” the witch said, using Adrian’s name like it belonged to him. Adrian pinned him with a scowl. “Ialdir wants you to get there. And until you do, he will keep Kylan safe. He would not want to lose his leverage.”

“He could have just taken me.”

“You are far too strong for him.”

Adrian lowered the knapsacks to the ground and rolled his shoulders. He frowned at Kylan’s little knapsack, which he had been carrying now, and then looked to the bundle in his own.

“Can your artificer… repair anything?” he asked.

“Anything mechanical, yes,” said the witch. “Do you need something else fixed?”

“Hm.”

If he were going to fight a god again, he might need all the help he could get. But that would mean embracing a form he had so badly tried to renounce all these years. It would mean reassuming his godship.

He averted his gaze from the knapsack and fixed it on the witch. “The artificer is familiar with the gods?” he asked.

The witch nodded. “Sort of. His family used to work for them. Their craftmanship was unrivalled and matchless. Even gods wore their armour and wielded their swords. They were not only artificers. They were draughtsmen who worked alongside witches and warlocks to craft instruments of all sorts. Infused with magic. They were some of the artificers who had built the very Gateway. But not long after, there was a falling out between them and the gods. Rakar’s ancestors left the gods and chose to live the mundane life.”

Adrian could empathize.

“That’s a nice bow you got there,” Rakar said when he returned, lugging a couple of saddlebags for the horses. “Too small for you, don’t you think?”

Adrian looked down at the bow grievously. “It is… not mine,” he said, his voice low and thick with sorrow. “It is my son’s.”

“Ah,” the artificer let out. “Your boy’s going to be all right. Ialdir is all mouth no trousers. A little brat, nothing more. Spoiled and tasteless!”

“You know a lot about him?” asked Adrian.

“I know enough,” said Rakar as he saddled up the horses. “to know that he is a coward. He plays the chicken game. But unfortunately for you, he plays it good.”

“He came looking for _me_ ,” Adrian divulged.

Rakar paused to turn and look at him curiously. “That is interesting. Why would he come looking for you? Who are you? Someone important, I reckon.”

Adrian exchanged a glance with the witch. “I doubt I would mean much to a god of this realm. Certainly not enough for him to go to such extents.”

Rakar looked to the witch then. “Whose company have you been keeping, my pretty flower?”

The witch exhaled heavily. “Stories must wait, Rakar. We have to ride for Zaris forthwith.”

“I agree,” Adrian said gruffly.

Rakar’s eyes narrowed, but he let it go for now. “You two best not be tricking me. I do not take kindly to tricksters.”

“Neither do I,” Adrian said, warning the artificer. Rakar nodded his head as though to heed the warning.

“I only have two riding horses,” he said. “And I must carry my things with me. You two and the little runt,” he pointed to the fox that was sitting by the witch’s feet. “will ride Bonzo here.”

The witch looked at Adrian in shock then, as though he had just been slapped across the face. Adrian could not care less about hobnobbing with a witch right now. He’d break bread with one if he had to.

“Fine,” he said.

“Fine?” the witch replied, sounding surprised.

“How do you plan to get your boy back from a god’s captivity?” asked Rakar as he filled the saddlebags with all sorts of items, varying from food parcels to steel ingots.

“I plan to fight him, of course.”

Rakar stopped to stare at Adrian for a moment. Then nodding his head, he said, “You intrigue me, brute.”

* * *

While Rakar was significantly smaller than Adrian was, he was taller than an average man. His shimmering dark skin resembled the colour of mahogany. Brown with a hint of pink. His luscious black mane swayed in the wind. His nose was as sharp as a pencil. Now that Adrian had had a chance of meeting him up close, he noted that the young artificer’s eyes were green, flecked with whispers of blue. He looked far too exotic to be a human species of this realm. He had to be half-bred. One of ancestors might have trysted with elves or perhaps even sirens. These species did not exist anymore, but they had once ruled the land of men.

The horses were not fast, but they were steady, bearing more weight than they probably should. They stopped often for a rest, much to Adrian’s dismay.

“I’d be faster alone,” he said.

“Like hell I’m letting you take off with one of my horses!” yapped the artificer. “They cost me my fortune. Do you know how hard it is to breed horses with ghouls and flesh-eaters roaming about?! I know one stable boy who lost six horses in one night. Said a wraith took them.”

While Rakar talked endlessly, no matter how pressing the situation was, the witch was completely silent behind Adrian. He kept his hands to himself, but Adrian often felt him shuddering against his back every time the horse would jerk to a brief stop.

“You can hold onto me,” Adrian said eventually, not wanting the witch to fall off the horse and delay them even more.

“I’m good,” said the witch. His voice quivered.

He navigated them. Adrian wondered how he knew the roads so well. Was it magic, too? He did not bother to ask. All that was important right now was getting to Kylan. He swore to himself that he would rain down fire on all the gods of this realm should anything harmful happen to his son.

When they stopped again on the road in the woods, they dismounted the horses to let them have their rest. Adrian walked tirelessly, worrying his heart out. He would be faster on his own. But not only would he wear out his horse to the point of death without any rest, he would also show up to fight Ialdir without help. He had never needed any help battling the gods back in his own realm. But this was something else. He had never met a god who could teleport himself the way Ialdir had.

“So, your game plan is to show up at a god’s home,” Rakar said while he fed the horses some of the carrots he had brought along. “and fight him head-on.”

“Won’t be the first time I do it,” Adrian grumbled.

Rakar looked over to the witch. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said in his strange accent. “but you are not of this realm, are you?”

“I thought only witches could figure that.”

“Well, when you’re smart as me, you’d figure all the secrets to the universe.” He shrugged. “Where are you from?”

Adrian rubbed his temples, still pacing a hole into the ground. “You do not need to know that.”

“That’s why you need the Gateway fixed. You want to go back to your realm. But to travel through the Gateway, you need to be a god of some sorts. Which means, you are one.”

He gasped.

“Gods from foreign realms living among us,” he wheezed. “Extraordinary.”

“I am not a god,” Adrian spat with ire. “Not anymore.”

The witch gave him a look from where he was sitting, stroking the fox that had curled up in his lap. “If you weren’t one, I doubt that Ialdir would have come looking for you,” he said. “There is something that he wants from you. And he would not be searching for it in a common man.”

Adrian groaned. “I do not care what he wants. Knowing his intentions will be of little use to me when I have his head rolling on the ground.”

“Quite hot-tempered, this one,” commented Rakar.

“His son is kidnapped by Ialdir,” the witch said, frowning. “I’d be hot-tempered if I were him, too.”

“Never seen you advocate for anyone apart from the flora and fauna crawling about your woods, Jongin,” snorted Rakar. “Who knew that water and oil could mix after all.”

The witch’s cheeks turned red then. He dropped his gaze to his pet fox.

“Now,” Rakar said, clapping his hands together once he was done feeding the horses. “You cannot fight a god with… whatever that is.” He beckoned to the axe hanging by Adrian’s hip. “You’ll need a weapon. How about that bow? I could modify it and throw a little upgrade on the arrows. Of course, with the help of your magic, Jongin. Everyone knows steel works best when imbued with a dash of magic.”

“The bow is the boy’s,” Adrian said.

“But you are welcome to modify it,” the witch added. “The boy is a marvellous archer. And he is only seven.”

“Gods’ children,” Rakar sighed. “So unfair. They get all the perks.”

“You will love him, Rakar,” said the witch. “He is the most curious little creature. He loves learning. He is as smart as a whip. Very kind. Very generous. This realm may have lost its faith, but the boy is the epitome of hope.”

Adrian stared at the way the witch revered and admired Kylan. As if the boy was his own. His expression was full of adoration for Kylan, his eyes sheening with worry for the boy’s safety.

For the first time, Adrian’s heart softened for the witch. For the first time, he heard his thoughts echo the witch’s name.

_Jongin…_

“Even more than yourself, eh?” said Rakar. “No one continues to believe in the good of mankind in this realm as much as you do, no matter how much they spurn and reject you. I certainly do not share your values and convictions.”

“You’re not the only one,” said the witch, glancing briefly to Adrian before he looked back to Rakar. “But the boy gives me… hope. Hope for a better future.”

“I thought you believed that this realm was doomed,” said Adrian.

“It does not mean that I do not hope for it to have a better future,” replied the witch.

“Fine,” said Rakar all of a sudden. “If you are adamant on using that toothpick to fight a god, let me spruce it up for you a little.”

While Adrian continued to believe that a weapon would only be as good as its wielder, he also did not want to face Ialdir underprepared. Not when Kylan’s safety was concerned.

He picked the tomahawk up and handed it to Rakar. “It better be good.”

Rakar snarled at him. “You can doubt whatever you want about me. But never question my workmanship!”

As he stomped away with the axe, the witch followed him after sparing Adrian a glimpse.

“Wait,” Adrian called.

The witch halted and faced him. “Yes?”

Licking his lips, Adrian said, “Is there no way that you can make certain Kylan is all right?”

The witch looked dismayed. “I have tried. But… I cannot see past the walls of Zaris. I have no power in a god’s territory.”

Adrian sighed.

“But it is a good thing,” said the witch then. “I cannot locate Kylan anywhere else in the realm. That means there is a high chance that he is at the temple.”

“Is there… a possibility that you can’t locate him because he is…” Adrian trailed off, unable to get the words out. Even the thought knifed him so deeply that it hurt.

The witch closed the distance between them, and he brought his hands up and cupped the sides of Adrian’s face. Much to Adrian’s surprise, he found himself leaning into the witch’s comforting touch. Was it magic? He did not really care at the moment.

“He is all right,” the witch whispered, gazing into Adrian’s pained eyes. “He is going to be all right.”

He was standing on the tip of his toes to meet Adrian’s gaze. His hands were warm against Adrian’s bearded cheeks. He was so close that Adrian could smell the sweet juice of honey plum in his breath. Everything about the witch in that moment calmed Adrian. His gentle eyes, his soft touch, his pretty face, his parted rosy lips, his silky hair that was blowing in the wind.

Along with sorrow and worry, something else brewed in Adrian’s chest then. Something he had never felt before.

“Jongin,” he let out in a very quiet whisper, letting his eyes fall shut.

At the same time, the witch’s hands fell from Adrian’s face. Adrian opened his eyes again to meet Jongin’s wide, baffled eyes.

“Jongin,” Rakar called when he returned.

Clearing his throat, Jongin stepped away from Adrian and turned toward the artificer. “Y-Yes,” he croaked out like there was something blocking his throat.

Rakar paused for a moment and stared at them both with an arched brow. “I just need your magic, honey.”

“Of course,” Jongin mumbled and hurried over to Rakar. “I… I’m coming.”

Rakar waited until Jongin was not looking to point two fingers to his own eyes before jerking one of them at Adrian, as though to say, _“I’m watching you.”_

Exhaling heavily, Adrian dropped onto the log the witch had been sitting on. “Kylan…” he exhaled, frowning deeply. There was so much that he wished he had told the boy. But he could not. For one, the boy was too young to handle such truths. However, the real reason was that Adrian was afraid that the boy would never forgive him.

History should not have to repeat itself.

He thought of the first time he had held his son in his arms. Kylan had been so small then—even though he grew up so fast—that Adrian was afraid of crushing him. He had stayed up all night whenever Kylan could not sleep. He’d pick the baby up and settle it on his chest. Only then would Kylan fall asleep, safe and sound on his father’s chest.

The first time he had held Kylan, Adrian promised to never let anything harm him. He knew that he did not have what it took to be the perfect father, but he promised to give the child a safe home, a full life, and protection. It was all that Adrian could afford.

He should have given the boy affection. It was all that Kylan yearned for.

An affectionate father.

Adrian was all that the boy had. And he had let him down.

He raised his head eventually to look at the baby fox that jumped into his lap. It looked up at him with its round, wide eyes for a moment before it curled up into a ball on his lap.

Adrian let it sleep on his lap as it reminded him of Kylan.

He did not have many blessings. But he certainly counted Kylan as one. If anything should happen to him, Adrian was not sure how he would go on. Perhaps he would not have to.

“Kylan…” he muttered again, staring at the fox.

When Rakar and Jongin returned, they were busy with their own conversation. Neither paid Adrian much attention as they discussed the betterment of the tomahawk. When they mounted the horses again, Jongin stared at Adrian for a short moment before he turned away with a frown.

“May I ride with you?” he asked Rakar. Though Adrian was surprised by the witch’s request, he did not say anything.

Rakar nodded. “Well, we’ll take Bonzo then. You. Brute. You ride with my tools.”

Adrian did not know what they had talked about, but there seemed to be some understanding between them. The witch was refusing to even meet Adrian’s gaze now.

Slightly confused, Adrian climbed up the other horse that was lugging a small wagon behind. He watched Rakar help Jongin mount their horse before the witch wrapped his arms around the talkative artificer’s waist.

Adrian decided that this was not the time to brood about the witch. He had to get to Kylan.

* * *

# Quest Nine

**A Swamp of Hags.**

It was cold. Colder than it usually was at home. His bed was not the softest, but it was softer than what he was lying on right now. It was cold, hard, and uncomfortable.

He shivered. He did not hear the sound of his father’s soft snores or heavy breathing. The man was not here. Kylan was all alone. In spite of everything, it was Kylan’s worst fear. Being left alone.

Even though he and his father did not get along all that well, he felt safe when the man was around. He _wanted_ his father to be close to him. Whenever the man stayed out too late in the night to hunt, Kylan grew increasingly anxious. He was not sure if he were scared for himself, or if he were worried that his father might not return.

He cracked his eyes open slowly. At first, he saw nothing but black. The wind that squeezed through the crevices in the wall whistled gently. He shuddered and closed his eyes again.

He was not home. He was not in his bed. He was sick, and he was lonely.

When he coughed, it felt as though his insides were crumbling apart. His head felt too heavy for him to be able to lift it. So, he decided to lay still on the hard platform and wait for his father to lift him from the ground.

As much as he did not want his father to think of him as an overly dependent weakling, the only time that his father ever showed some care was when he was ill. He’d make Kylan some chicken soup. Some nights, he’d even rub the sole of Kylan’s feet to warm them up. He’d stay up all night, watching over Kylan with a deep frown on his face.

During those nights, Kylan often believed that his father cared for him.

Tonight—though he was not sure if it were actually night or if it were just dark—his father was not here. Kylan coughed some more and tasted some blood in his mouth.

“Are you all right?”

Kylan’s eyes shot open once more when he heard the soft murmur echoing around him. He blinked his eyes a few times to let them adjust to the darkness. He eventually spotted the shadow in the corner.

Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and glanced around him. There was nothing but walls. Four walls. He looked back to the corner where someone was squatting in.

“Wh-Who is that?” Kylan asked. His throat hurt as he spoke.

“You look very ill,” said the strange voice. It was of a boy’s, Kylan realized.

“Are… Are you… the boy from the woods?” he asked, whispering.

The other did not answer.

Kylan wished that it was bright enough for him to see the boy clearly. “Who are you?” he asked. “Where… am I?”

“Are you scared?” the voice asked.

Kylan did not want to seem scared before the boy. “No,” he said, even though he were a little scared. “Are you real? Or are you in my head?”

“I am as real as the day,” said the boy. He sounded soft and pretty. There was something in his voice that made it sound like a windchime. “Your father is coming for you. So, don’t be afraid.”

“I said I’m not afraid,” Kylan muttered, hugging his knees to his chest. “The… man took me.”

The man who visited the inn. He did not remember anything else.

“He is evil,” said the other boy. “Be brave, Kylan.”

“How… How do you know my name?”

“I know everything.”

Kylan rose to his knees and started crawling toward the corner. “But I don’t know who you are.”

“You don’t need to know,” said the boy, sounding sorrowful. “I am no one. I am of no worth to you.”

Kylan frowned. He stopped and sat back on his legs, weakly coughing. Then as he stretched an arm out, he said, “Can I know your name? Please.”

The other boy did not stop him as Kylan reached out and lightly brushed his hair. The pale, silvery hair. It was soft. Kylan gasped and retrieved his hand. The boy withdrew back into the corner.

“You _are_ real.”

The boy said nothing.

“Why do you always follow me in the dark?” Kylan asked.

The boy stayed mum for a long moment before he whispered, “I don’t have a name.”

What did that mean? Everyone had a name. Jongin said that a person’s name had a lot of power. Everyone should have a name, shouldn’t they?

“Are you afraid that I might judge you?” he asked. “I won’t. Did you see this?” He touched the scar on his left cheek and stroked it lightly. “I am not perfect. I have this scar. I think I am ugly because of it, but no one I met recently even noticed it.”

“I noticed it,” said the boy. That made Kylan nervous. While he was curious to find out what the boy thought of it, he was also afraid of hearing something critical and wounding. “I don’t think you are ugly.”

There was a certain shyness in the boy’s tone as he said it. Kylan touched his scar again. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

They were quiet for a stretch. “Who are you? Why do you follow me?” Kylan tried asking again.

But without saying anything more, the boy vanished once again, leaving Kylan alone in the small, dark space. It did not matter much anyway because within minutes, Kylan had blacked out again.

* * *

“Why are you travelling to the mountains again?” asked Rakar as they rode past the trees. The road was becoming narrow. The trees were thinner here. Something smelled foul ahead.

“For the boy,” the witch answered softly, as though he did want Adrian to hear his voice. But Adrian would hear it past mountains, all right. Because it was all that kept him sane for the time being.

“Ah, yes,” said Rakar. “You mentioned that he is ill. What is the illness?”

“We do not know,” replied Jongin. “But not even I could do much to help the boy.”

 _You are helping plenty_ , Adrian wanted to say but did not. Something he had done or said earlier had put the witch off that Jongin was not even looking in his way anymore.

Adrian reined the horse to slower pace as the dirt on the ground became damper. “Are we approaching a stream?” he asked.

“There must be a swamp ahead,” said Rakar. “Isn’t there, Jongin?”

“Yes,” Jongin muttered. The fox that was sitting between the witch and Rakar made a soft squeal. “We ought to be on our guard.”

Adrian noticed the caution in the witch’s tone and the jitters in the horses’ gait. Along with the stench, the air was ridden with cold and heaviness. Adrian glanced down at his palm, and the rune was flickering gold.

“Am I the only one who smells that?” Rakar let out with a grimace crumpling his face.

“No,” Adrian said, quietly. He kept his eyes on the thinning trees. “Something is ahead us.”

“Do you think it’s Walkers?” asked Rakar. “I hate those Walkers! They are terrible for business.”

“I’d have thought more people would want you to build them weapons to protect themselves.”

Rakar made a face at him. “We’re not all built like you,” he scoffed at Adrian. “And not everyone has witchcraft looking after their rumps. The people would rather flee than fight the monsters.”

“And that is why they keep growing in numbers.”

“Do you think they breed?” Rakar gasped. “That’s disgusting. Can you imagine, the rotten Walkers having sex and making little baby corpses?”

“That isn’t what I meant,” spat Adrian. “You are not doing anything to dwindle their number. Running away from them is not going to help save your realm.”

“Says the man who lives in isolation by choice just so that he would not have to interact with anyone in the realm. I am surprised to hear that you care about its welfare.”

Adrian did not know how Rakar knew these details, but he took a guess. He did not understand why the witch had been sharing this information with the mouthy artificer. Had he been talking to Rakar about Adrian?

“Shush, Rakar,” Jongin hissed at the man, lightly smacking the back of the artificer’s shoulder. He blushed and glanced away when Adrian pinned him with a sidelong glance.

“How far are the Ruins of Zaris?” he asked, deciding to change the topic at hand.

“A day and half. At most,” replied Rakar. “Provided that nothing hinders our journey.”

Adrian reined his horse to a halt, jaw tightening. “Like those things?” he grumbled, jerking his chin toward the creatures that were crawling about the smelly, shallow swamp, whose water had receded greatly.

“Are those… hags?” Rakar whispered, eyes bulging out. “Oh, yes. Those are hags. What now?”

Exhaling exasperatedly, Adrian dismounted the horse. “They will make way for us, or they will be _made_ to make way for us.”

The witch climbed off the horse’s back as well. “You should be careful. They… spit and scratch,” he told Adrian.

“Where is my axe?” asked Adrian without looking at the witch.

Rakar remained mounted on the horse as he handed Adrian the axe. “Go ahead. I’m not done with it yet but give it a swing.”

Accepting the tomahawk, Adrian stared at it for a moment. It looked… cleaner. The axe’s head was noticeably bigger, too. The golden symbols engraved into the head had to be Jongin’s doing. The handle was not much different, but its hilt now sported a metal pommel that also bore some incantations.

Much to Adrian’s surprise, he was thrilled to give the upgrades on his axe a go. It was not half as extravagant or impressive as the weapons he had wielded in the past, but it spoke to the artificer’s mastery and talent, looking at how much he had managed to do with a hunter’s simple axe in such short notice. Of course, this would not have been possible without magic. The artificer’s skills were facilitated by the witch’s sleight of hand.

Adrian gave it a toss in his hand to get used to the additional weight of the axe head. “Are you coming?” he asked Jongin.

The witch shook his head shyly. He was still refusing to meet Adrian’s eyes. “I will stay here and watch your flank.”

“Suit yourself,” Adrian said and started toward the swamp. As he edged closer, he caught a clearer sight of the hags that were plodding all over the swamp. Hags usually were diseased female hexes, who had given in to madness. They were rabid, angry, old crones, whose backs were hunched, spines arched, head mostly bald save the few scraggly strands of husky grey hair. Their bluish skins were loose and as wrinkled as rumpled rags. Their bulging eyes were all white. Whatever teeth that remained in their bug-infested mouths were on the edge of falling off. They were all skin and bones, mostly just bones. None of them was wearing any clothes either. They were stripped off their magical powers, which were the source of the madness that overcame them. But they could still be quite dangerous.

There were six lurking about the swamp. One of them looked in Adrian’s way as he advanced toward them. Instantly, the hag screeched bestially, baring its rotten teeth and the long nails of its bony fingers.

It charged at him. Hags were faster than Dreygurs. Much, much faster. And they were angrier.

Adrian readied himself as the other hags noticed his presence, too.

* * *

“Savage,” Rakar commented once he was done building the fire for Jongin and himself. Adrian sat as far away as he could from the other two. “That’s what you are, you know? Savage. And incredibly impressive.”

Rakar had, apparently, witnessed the entire brawl with the hags back at the swamp with awe and wonder. When Adrian returned to the horses, covered in hag blood and scratches, the artificer had showered him with praises, grinning and gasping.

“You are a warrior,” Rakar noted. “A kind I’ve never seen before. The way you fought… Wow.”

“They were just hags,” Adrian grumbled, clearly not taking much pride in having defeated hags. They were really just mad old women. And they had actually managed to get their claws on him. The scratches on his arm stung a little.

“Still,” said Rakar. “I saw your stances. I saw your techniques. You fought like you have been fighting since the day you were born.”

Adrian stared into the darkness of the forest for a moment, lost in his memories. “I have,” he let out, returning his attention to the laces of his boots he was undoing. They had gotten damp from the swamp.

While Rakar went on singing praises, the witch stood near the horses, stroking their manes, feeding them apples. Adrian watched him lean his head against one of the horses as though he were whispering something into the beast’s ear.

After taking the boots off and setting them aside, Adrian rose to his bare feet and walked over to the witch.

Jongin froze as he sensed Adrian approaching him. He did not avert his gaze from the horse even as Adrian reached him.

For a minute, Adrian considered walking away because there was absolutely no reason that he should be bothered by the witch’s sudden change of behaviour towards him.

Adrian had never been concerned about such a thing. Mostly because no one had given him a reason to be.

He rolled his sleeve up and held the arm out to the witch. “Can you do something about that?” he asked.

The scratches caused some discomfort, but they were nothing to be alarmed about. Besides, Adrian was not the kind of man to grouse about a little scratch.

But he needed the witch to talk to him. Why?

Perhaps because Jongin was the only one that could keep him from losing his sanity over Kylan’s abduction at the moment.

And why Jongin?

That Adrian did not know. Nor did he want to know.

Jongin turned away from the horse and looked at the wounds on Adrian’s arm. “They don’t look too bad,” he said, even though his face crumpled into a faint grimace.

Adrian dropped his arm back to his side. “Do you not feel comfortable hurting anyone? Even hags?”

The witch turned back to the horse with a frown on his brows. “No,” he muttered. “I don’t.”

Adrian nodded. “All right. I will not ask for your help for such things again. Just get us to the Gateway, and we shall part ways.”

He watched Jongin slowly run his slender fingers through the horse’s mane, as though he were lost in his thoughts. After a long moment, he muttered, “All right.”

Clenching his jaw, Adrian walked away. “We should get going.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Rakar pointed out.

“The horses have had their rest.”

The artificer let out a heavy breath, shoulders slumped. “I get it that you are worried for your boy, but if you show up at Zaris without having gotten a single wink in three days, you are asking to get your butt kicked.”

“I have gone weeks without any sleep,” Adrian spat.

“You are quite self-serving, aren’t you? Tell me again why I’m helping you?”

Adrian fished out a pouch of coins from his knapsack and tossed it over to the artificer. “For this.”

Rakar weighed the pouch in his hand and hummed. “Well, if you put it that way. But Jongin and I will both fall of our horse if we do not get at least a couple of hours of sleep. Now, that will only slow you down.”

Adrian gritted his teeth. “Fine. A couple of hours. Then we keep moving.

As Rakar prepared a makeshift bed on the ground, Adrian sat down to look at the upgraded axe again. Would it be enough for to fight Ialdir?

He wondered how Kylan was doing right now. He had never wished for anything. Never. But right now, he wished that his son was all right. That he was safe and alive.

He glanced at his knapsack and then at the artificer, who was laying down with a heavy sigh.

Jongin had disappeared along with his little pet fox. Adrian did not bother to wonder where he was.

“You,” he said to Rakar.

The man turned his head and arched an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Can you really fix… anything that’s broken?”

“Hmm… Not really. Can’t fix a broken nail, a broken autocracy, a broken family, a broken heart.”

Adrian scowled at him. “I meant, a weapon.”

Rakar looked intrigued now. “Yes. I’d like to think so. There hasn’t been a weapon I couldn’t make better.”

Adrian dropped his gaze, breathing heavily. A while passed, and Rakar was already snoring, but Jongin still had not returned. For a moment, Adrian considered going after him to look for him. But then he realized that he did not have to. He had no reason to.

As he lay down, he tucked an arm under his head and frowned at the night sky, his head buzzing relentlessly with the thoughts of his poor son.

Somehow, he managed to drift off. Just a little. When he roused again, he felt a tingling sensation on his arm.

He raised his head to look at Jongin who was kneeling at his side with a hand hovering above his injured arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly. The witch did not seem alarmed as he continued to draw his hand along Adrian’s arm. He was wearing his usual gentle expression along with a tinge of concern.

When he was done, he sat back and stared idly at the ground before he slowly raised his gaze to meet Adrian’s. Then he brought his hand to Adrian’s chest.

Freezing, Adrian watched the witch splay his hand over the bare chest where the shirt was unlaced. “Your heart does not waver,” he said, whispering, so that no one but Adrian could hear him. And Adrian heard him clearly.

He sat up a little, propping himself up on his elbows and stared at the witch’s half-lidded, yet solemn eyes. “It never has,” he replied. He felt Jongin’s warm palm press against his sternum as a small frown pulled the witch’s brows down.

“Mine does,” he breathed out, withdrawing his hand from Adrian’s chest. He wrapped it around Adrian’s hand instead and lifted it to his own chest. Adrian stiffened as his hand, huge and graceless, touch Jongin’s chest. He felt a small, unsteady heartbeat thud against his palm. “I… cannot.”

Adrian was not sure what the boy was talking about. He could not what? He dropped Adrian’s hand and looked away once more with a pained expression.

“I picked these for you,” he said, unfurling his other hand to reveal a bunch of gooseberries. “You haven’t eaten anything since we left the town.”

Adrian sat up and stared at the berries for a long moment before he raised his head to meet Jongin’s embarrassed gaze. “Do you think I’m one of your pet raccoons, witch?”

Jongin’s face turned pale at once, and he closed his hand again, pulling it back. Adrian caught his wrist just as Jongin started to get up to leave.

“Let me go,” the witch whimpered, keeping his head turned, not wanting to look at Adrian anymore. He seemed angry and hurt.

“Give me those berries,” Adrian said.

“No. I don’t want to now,” Jongin spat. Adrian tugged at his arm, yanking him back as he tried to stand up. Stumbling on his knees, Jongin fell against Adrian, his free hand grabbing Adrian’s shoulder to brace himself. “Let go of my arm.”

His eyes were glistening limpidly when Adrian looked at them. He noticed the little flowers still clinging to the strands of Jongin’s hair. He noticed the pleasant scent that was filling his senses.

“I do not care about why you have been avoiding me,” Adrian said, voice low and harsh. “Do you understand? If you think I’m going to feel sorry for whatever that you are grieving about, you are wrong. I do not care about anything or anyone except my son. So, if you are seeking attention, witch, I suggest you stop acting out like a child.”

Jongin scowled now. “You are an honest man. Which is why your lies are so see-through.”

Adrian released the witch’s arm and sat up straighter. “I do not know what you mean by that.”

Jongin sat back on his folded legs and checked his wrist for a bruise. There wasn’t any. Adrian did not grip him that hard. “You don’t have to worry,” he said.

“I am not worried about you.”

Jongin sighed. “I am not avoiding you because of anything that you did.”

“I was not wondering.” Adrian gritted his teeth. “I said, I do not want an explanation.”

Jongin did not say anything for a while as he held his head hung, staring at the berries in his hand. Then in a soft whisper, he said, “You are right to despise me. You are right not to care about me. So, don’t… start caring now.”

Adrian looked at him sharply then. As much as he could not afford to ask questions right now, he was curious what Jongin’s words meant. Instead, he said, “I do _not_.”

Jongin bowed his head and slipped the gooseberries into Adrian’s hand before he rose to his full height and walked away. As he knelt down in front of the small fire, he waved his forefinger over it, making the flames dance. He looked distracted and sad as he played with the flames. He only looked away when the fox climbed into his lap.

With a heavy breath, Adrian pocketed the gooseberries and grabbed Kylan’s knapsack. He fished out his son’s wooden toy and frowned at it.

There had never been a lot of people in Adrian’s life that he cared for and who cared for him. He could count them with just one hand. In the past, he was expected to never care about anything. Not even himself. He was a weapon. A very good weapon. He did what he was told to do. It was not until Aalitra that Adrian thought he too could care for someone. Then they had Kylan. But everyone that Adrian cared for was always taken away from him. One way or another. He was cursed. He was meant to be a monster and nothing else. He was no god, he was no hero. He thought that he could be a husband and a father, but he ended up doing a lousy job at both of them.

As soon as he had taught Kylan everything the boy needed to learn to survive, he would erase himself from the boy’s life. It was the best gift he could give Kylan. A life without the curse and the sins of his father.

_“A father’s sins will shadow his son, for that a father’s sins cannot be atoned by his son.”_

Adrian could not afford to care about anyone. He would only bring them down with him.

Winter was approaching at full tilt. The more their journey to the mountains was delayed, the more danger Kylan was in.

He put the figurine back into the knapsack and rose to his feet, taking the knapsacks with him. He walked over to the sleeping artificer and lightly kicked his shin to wake him up.

Rakar stirred and mumbled, but he eventually opened his eyes and scowled at Adrian. “That’s a rude awakening.”

“I need to get going,” ordered Adrian. “I am taking one of your horses.”

“Wait,” said Rakar, sitting up. “But you need us.”

“I need you two more at the mountains. Fix the Gateway. I will get there soon with Kylan.”

“What?” said Jongin. “You are going alone?”

Adrian did not look at him as he started for the horses and filled the saddlebags with the knapsacks. “You made it clear that you will not be of much use at the temple.”

“But I _will_ be on the rest of your journey.” He followed after Adrian. As Adrian mounted the horse, the witch caught his arm. “I am coming along. You might get there sooner and save Kylan faster without us, but the way back will be difficult without me.”

“You were there when Kylan was taken.”

“That was not my fault. There was nothing that I could have done in that moment.” He was frowning with guilt. “You don’t know the way.”

“I can follow the stars.”

“The temple is hidden to the outsiders. I can find it. Even if I’m powerless on the temple grounds, I can still undo the barriers around it. You will never get to the temple without me. Please, you will need me.”

Every time Adrian heard the witch say that he needed him, something inside him twisted uncomfortably. There was truth in the witch’s words. Adrian did need him. But was it only for the convenience of the journey?

“All right,” he agreed in the end.

“What about me?” asked Rakar, scrambling up to his feet.

Adrian withdrew the bundle from his knapsack and handed it down to the artificer. “I have something for you to repair. It is broken to bits. But I trust you to… mend it. We will meet you back here.”

Accepting the package, Rakar eyed it like a child leering at the last piece of sweetmeat. “Intriguing,” he muttered to himself, eyes sparkling. Then looking up at Adrian again, he nodded. “It feels… foreign.”

It was.

Adrian grabbed hold of the reins. “Camp here. And stay safe.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m the master at hiding and fleeing.” He glanced down at the fox that was whining sadly at Jongin.

The witch crouched and picked the baby fox up to hug it in his arms. “You must stay,” he told the red fox gently. “But it won’t be long. Kylan needs my help. You will be safer here with Rakar.”

After lowering it back to the ground, he rose up and turned to Adrian. He waited as though he were expecting Adrian to help him climb onto the horse.

Huffing, Adrian held out a hand. The witch hesitated for a stretch before he slid his dainty and gentle hand into Adrian’s contrastingly rough hand and allowed himself to be drawn up onto the horse.

Settling behind Adrian, Jongin slowly retrieved his hand from Adrian’s grip. “You have to hold on to me,” Adrian told him. “unless you want to fall off the horse and have a mouthful of dirt.”

“You better bring him back in one piece,” Rakar warned Adrian before he took Jongin’s hand and gave it a chaste kiss. “Take care, darling.”

Adrian tried not to look annoyed, but he _always_ looked annoyed.

“I will, Rakar,” Jongin replied. “Be safe. And take care of Qinto for me.”

Adrian did not dillydally any longer as he whipped the reins and steered the horse to bolt onwards. Jongin jerked against Adrian’s back and immediately locked his arms around Adrian’s waist.

“So, the artificer is your lover?” Adrian said as the horse raced through the woods.

“What?” the witch rasped. “No.”

“You two are awfully chummy.”

“We have been friends for very long. Rakar is just very… demonstrative with his affection. I suppose you cannot relate.”

Adrian clenched his jaw and reined the horse to gallop faster. Jongin tightened his arms around Adrian.

* * *

# Quest Ten

**The Mist Flood.**

He woke to the sound of tippy-tappy footsteps. They were light, unlike his father’s. Kylan opened his eyes to greet the familiar darkness. His stomach grumbled immediately. He was not sure how long it had been since he last ate anything. But he figured he was too weak and ill to eat much right now, anyway. Everything inside him hurt.

He heard something creak open. Perhaps a door. Or a window. Then all of a sudden, a faint light poured in, making Kylan’s eyes hurt momentarily. He clenched them tightly for a length. When they fluttered open again, he squinted at the pair of boots that was approaching him.

“Where is my father?” he asked weakly, whimpering. His voice sounded hoarse, his throat felt sore. “Take me… to my father… please.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the stranger clicked his tongue, as though he were mocking Kylan. Even though that angered him, there was nothing that he could do. “You want your father?”

Kylan nodded sadly, head still resting on the ground. His eyes were burning. He recalled the boy telling him that his father was coming for him. The boy without a name. The boy with the soft hair, as fair as the moon.

“I’m hungry,” he whispered.

“I brought you something to eat.”

Kylan forced himself to sit up then. He smelled something pungent. And then the stranger flung something onto the ground. It was furry and unmoving.

Kylan gasped and hugged his knees to his chest. “Mouse.”

“Rat,” the stranger corrected him. “Eat it.”

Kylan looked up at the man with tears gleaming in his eyes. “Who are you? Why did you take me away from my father?”

“Your father?” The stranger scoffed, waving the torch he was holding in his hand. “You mean, the man who lies to you?”

Kylan stared at the man, even though it was hard for him to keep his head up. He shivered. “What? My… father does not lie.”

The stranger laughed. His laughter made Kylan’s head and ears hurt. He flinched when the man dropped to a crouch and grinned at him. His teeth were made of gold. Kylan shuddered.

“Is that what you think?” said the stranger. “Tell me. Where is your mother?”

Kylan considered picking the dead rat up and hurling it in the man’s face. But he did not have the strength for that. He answered the stranger’s question instead. “She died when I was a baby.”

“Hmm.” The man scratched his braided beard. “Curious. Very curious.”

“Wh-What is?”

Kylan tried not to appear to be frightened by this man, but he slightly was. He hoped that his father was really coming for him. However, a part of him was convinced that his father would not. It would be a good riddance for him. Kylan was no longer a burden of his.

In that case, Kylan hoped that his abductor would kill him quickly and in the least painful way.

“Everything!” the man guffawed. Kylan whimpered and blenched away from him.

“Are you… going to kill me?”

That stopped the man in his tracks. He arched a brow at Kylan. “Am I? Maybe? I just might.”

Kylan looked at the dagger in his boot. It was still there. If he could reach the man’s throat, he might be able to get away. But he was too short. His arms were too short. So were his legs.

Wouldn’t the boy without a name help him?

“But I want to tell you a story first,” the stranger said and made himself comfortable on the ground.

“A… A story?” Kylan muttered, swallowing.

“Oh, yes. A very interesting one. Would you like to hear?”

Kylan shook his head. “I want to get out of here.”

The stranger scowled at him. “You are a clever one, aren’t you? Which is why I think you’d be able to understand me clearly.” He leaned closer. Kylan noticed the medallion hanging around his neck. It was made to resemble a lion’s head. “Do you know who you are?”

“I… I’m K-Kylan.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Children are irritating.” He sat up straighter. “Very well. Do you know who your father is?”

Kylan hesitated to give the man his father’s name. What if it could be used against his father? What if it put him in danger? So, he kept mum.

Surprisingly, the stranger answered for him. “Once upon a time, there lived a man. He went by the name Adrian. A simple hunter, living as far away as he could from any sort of civilization, so that no one would bother him, no one would find him. You see, he did not belong in this realm.”

Kylan felt his heart race a little. He still kept quiet. The stranger continued.

“He came from another,” said the man. “And he was a monster. A great, big monster. His arrival was felt by every creature, every critter that walked the realm. For years, he stayed hidden. He had a family, too. He was married. To a beautiful woman, legend says. She bore him a son. A sick, weak son that he was not proud of.”

“Stop,” Kylan croaked out then, wanting to cover his ears with his hands. “I am not weak!”

“Hush,” said the stranger. “The story isn’t over yet, child. The monster raised his son in the dark, keeping everything all of his secrets in the dark. Those that he never wanted his son to discover. Now, I’m about to share one of his secrets. So, listen closely.”

He was almost whispering. Even though Kylan did not want to hear any more, he kept on listening.

“His wife, Aalitra, was going to leave him one day. She was going to leave him to his loneliness and take their child with her. When he found out, he… killed her with his own bare hands in cold blood.”

Kylan did not realize that he was crying until a few drops of tears rolled down his cheeks. “N-No,” he let out shakily. “You… are… bluffing.”

“What will I gain by bluffing to you?” he scoffed. “You are already my captive. I would have hurt you if I wanted to. But I want you to see the truth. I want you to know everything that has been kept away from you. By the monster you call _Father_.”

Kylan broke into a sob, fiercely wiping his cheeks. “No! No! You are lying! You are lying! I don’t believe you! My father did not murder my mother!”

“Hmm,” the man hummed. “Very well. You mentioned that your father does not lie. Perhaps you should ask him yourself. Then we shall see just how honest of a man your father is.”

“He is not very friendly,” Kylan rasped between his sobs. “But he is a good man.”

“Children only believe the things they are shown and told to believe. But you are smarter than other children your age. I just want to bring you out of the darkness. I am not your enemy.”

“Are you saying that you are… my friend?”

“Of course,” he chimed, grinning. “If you want me to be your friend. Your real enemy lurks much closer to you than you think, Kylan.”

With that, he rose to his feet and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Kylan buried his face in his knees and sobbed harder. He should not believe the man. His father did not kill his mother. He did not hide this truth from Kylan all these years. It was not the reason why his father never talked about Kylan’s mother. No. Kylan was simply not going to believe the stranger.

He was no friend.

* * *

“We must stop,” Jongin said sometime during noon as the horse’s pace grew rapidly slow. “You are wearing him out. He needs rest.”

Adrian reined the horse to a halt. “How much farther to Zaris?”

“Less than a day,” said Jongin. “But Bonzo needs rest.”

“Why do you have a name for everything?” Adrian grumbled.

“Names are powerful,” said the witch, retrieving his arms from around Adrian’s waist. He then jumped off the horse and hurried to get an apple from the saddlebags.

Dismounting the horse, Adrian popped a few joints in his neck and stared at the way Jongin was stroking the horse’s mane, whispering something sweet in its ear, smiling. The witch looked just as tired.

“In my realm,” Adrian said. “Not even… people had names. Many were simply orphans. They belonged to nobody and nowhere.”

Jongin pinned him with a piteous look. “Entities without a name often fade into nothingness. There is no one to call out to them. No one thinks of them. No one utters their names. It hurts. To be meaningless.”

His eyes welled up with some tears, and he quickly lowered them.

Adrian stepped closer to him. “Who has been… saying your name all these years you’ve been alive, then?”

“Not many,” the witch admitted, still keeping his gaze low just so that Adrian would not see the tears in his eyes. “But I have magic. I know spells that would keep me from fading. But it does not mean I’m not meaningless. I have become meaningless. If it weren’t for the animals in the Red Woods, I would have long been gone.”

“Gone? As in… dead?”

Jongin shook his head. “It’s worse than being dead. It’s like… being a ghost while you’re alive. You’re just a spirit. A sad, lonely spirit.”

Adrian shook his head. “That’s bullshit.”

The witch raised his head then to frown at Adrian. “You do not believe in such things?”

“No,” he spat.

“Because you can’t see them.”

Well, Jongin got him there. Adrian rubbed the back of sore, stiff neck. “It’s not that I do not believe in things that I can’t see,” he admitted. “But witches are always full of shit.”

Jongin pouted. “Not all of them. Not me.”

“Especially you.” He turned his back to Jongin to fish out a waterskin from the saddlebags. “With your countless pets, scary prophecies, foolish beliefs about becoming meaningless.”

“What do you believe in then?”

Adrian swallowed a mouthful of water and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before facing the glowering witch again. “What?”

“Forget about it,” he mumbled and turned his attention back to the horse.

While they let the horse rest, Adrian sharpened his revamped tomahawk with a whetstone. He looked up at the witch, who was pulling out the flowers from his hair. They weren’t many to begin with. Five or six, tiny ones in the shade of faint purple and yellow.

“Don’t like them anymore?” he asked, dropping his gaze to the axe.

“I never did. It’s the raccoons.”

“It’s not bad looking.”

Jongin froze. “What?”

Adrian said nothing.

He walked over to Adrian and knelt down beside him. “I will keep them in my hair.”

“I don’t care.”

“But you just said—”

“I said, I don’t care.”

Jongin fell silent then, but he did not get rid of the flowers in his hair. He only spoke again after some time had passed between them. “I do believe that I will fade into nothingness with time.”

Adrian kept mum, but for a brief moment, he considered the truth in what the witch believed. And it was sorrowing.

“Rakar thinks of me. But once he is gone, I am truly a lost cause.”

“Maybe you should consider mortality.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“You said that you spell yourself to stay young.”

“It was not exactly the truth.”

Adrian stopped whetting the axe then and looked at the witch.

“My point is,” Jongin said. “When you said my name… all of a sudden, I felt… alive. It felt… strong and powerful. It was as though no one had uttered my name with such… strength before.”

Adrian felt his fingers loosen around the whetstone while his chest tightened. “It had not… been my intention.”

Jongin met his eyes. “You said my name like I meant something to you, Adrian. And I am feeling things I should not be feeling.”

Adrian was momentarily lost in Jongin’s gaze. The boy looked aggrieved, hopeful, disappointed all at once.

“And I know it is wrong.” He turned his face away. “I am sorry.”

Adrian clenched his teeth and stood up. “You must understand that I live for no one other than my son. And once he no longer needs me, I do not plan on staying.”

“I understand that,” said Jongin, rising.

“So, do not… say anything more.”

Jongin nodded his head, blinking the tears in his eyes away.

Adrian sighed. “You asked what I believe in. There is only one thing that I believe in. It is the fact that chaos and destruction follow wherever I go. I am not the man you think I am. Close your heart to it… Jongin. Don’t let yourself feel… for me.”

The witch nodded again. He looked like he might burst into tears, but he did not. He sucked in a breath instead and said, “We should get going.”

* * *

“Is this it?” Adrian asked as they got off the horse. It must be a little past midnight. The moon was at its brightest. The trees were so thick that there was any room for them walk, but their path was well-lit.

“Yes,” the witch muttered, gazing ahead. “The gods of this realm lived here many, many aeons ago.”

“Where do they live now?”

“In a dimension that is only accessible by gods. They no longer live with the mortals.”

“In a dimension? Is that dimension in this realm coexisting with this one?”

“Yes,” said Jongin. “Do you not have those in your realm?”

“No,” said Adrian. “Well, we have hell. Do you consider that another dimension?”

“Yes. Only dead people can go to hell, right?”

“Dead people and me,” Adrian sighed.

Jongin stopped to turn around and face Adrian with a surprised look. “What? You’ve been to hell?”

“Three times,” conceded Adrian.

The witch’s mouth fell open. “H-How?”

“I was sent to defeat the god who ruled hell. He went a little crazy and built himself an army of the dead.” He brushed past Jongin and kept walking.

The witch hurried after him. “So, you killed the God of the Underworld?!”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“He killed me twice first. I succeeded in my third try. I put his own horns through his heart. The thing about dying in hell is that… you can’t really die.” He shrugged. “You come right back. And I belonged in hell.”

“You seem awfully nonchalant about visiting hell! _And_ killing a god there.”

“I was young. I was reckless.”

“You still are. Reckless that is.”

He caught Adrian’s arm and stopped him.

“We’re here,” he said quietly. Adrian looked down at his palm and frowned at the glinting rune. “Step aside.”

There was nothing but trees ahead. Jongin planted his feet firmly into the ground and lifted his hands, slowly. The symbols on his arms began to glow, reflecting the light of the moon.

When he dropped his hands back to his sides, he turned to Adrian, panting slightly, and said, “It’s done. Come with me.”

Adrian followed the witch further into the woods after hitching the horse to a tree. “Why do you do this?”

“Why do I do what?” asked Jongin.

“Why are you going to such extents to help us?”

The witch took a moment to answer. When he did, it sounded sincere. “I care for people. I care for everyone even when they don’t care much for me. I want this realm to prosper. I want its inhabitants to be happy. And it will only begin with an act of kindness. Especially when the gods are trying to end it.”

Adrian never met someone as selfless as this little wood witch. He always spoke with such wisdom, even though Adrian did not share many of his views. Asking him to close his heart to Adrian was cruel. This boy felt for everyone and everything. He cared for them all. Even when all that the others did was push him away.

Including Adrian.

But Jongin had asked Adrian to not to care. Why? Why was he afraid that Adrian might start to care for him?

He caught the witch’s hand. Jongin halted and turned, immediately looking down to Adrian’s hand that was wrapped around his wrist.

“You don’t have to go in there with me.”

Jongin frowned. “I won’t be in your way,” he told Adrian, pulling his arm free from Adrian’s grip. “I promise. I want to help you save your son. I will not distract you.”

“I will not put your safety before my son’s,” Adrian told him point-blank.

“And I will never ask you to.” He smiled faintly. “If anything, I am not putting you before Kylan either. Make no mistake, I am fonder of him than I am of you.”

Adrian did not object again as they proceeded.

Soon, a building came into view. Adrian had been expecting ruins and rubbles. Instead, he was met with a great temple, still standing strong, tightly bricked and tall.

And it was ridden with armed Dreygurs.

“Ialdir must have those creatures guarding the place,” Jongin remarked in a low voice.

Adrian scowled at the two sentinelled Dreygurs staggering by the entrance. “Is that the only entrance?”

“It’s the only we can use. The others were long sealed off.”

Huffing, Adrian picked up his axe. “Ialdir expects a fight. Then it is a fight I will give him.”

He wasted no more time as he marched straight towards the temple, gripping the tomahawk in his hand. The Dreygurs turned to him at once. Both were armed, but it did not take Adrian too much effort to strike them down. Once he had felled them, he picked up one of their sabres and held it out to Jongin.

“Here,” he said.

Jongin made a disgusted face. “I am not touching that.”

“It is for your defence.”

“What makes you think I know how to use it?”

“Even my six-year-old son knows how to use it.”

Jongin fixed Adrian with a hard look. “No.”

Exhaling with exasperation, Adrian tossed the sabre back onto the Dreygur. “Fine.”

It is dark all around. No torches were lit. The colossal entrance of the temple made Adrian wonder if the gods here had been as big as some of the gods in his realm. Ialdir did not seem all that big. He was not even as big as Adrian.

They started for the doorway. And that was when Adrian heard the thundering footfalls that quaked the very ground he was standing on.

A roaring troll leaped out of the temple, beating at its chest. Adrian cursed under his breath, noticing the sharp set of teeth the troll bared as it roared once more. Then with the speed of a raging bull, it charged at them. It was bigger than the last troll. Feral and unintelligent like the one Jongin had domesticated.

It jumped them out of nowhere and was too fast for them to run for cover. Adrian’s heart almost fell out of his chest as it went for Jongin first.

Sprinting forward, he blocked the troll, driving a fist into its face. Unfortunately for him, it already had its mouth open, and it snapped around his arm, sinking its teeth into the flesh.

Adrian growled in pain, but he did not pull back. He kept pushing forward to hold the troll back and away from Jongin, who was struggling to get his magic to work.

As blood dripped from his arm, Adrian swung his axe and struck a side of the troll’s neck. Though it released his arm and staggered back, it was barely wounded.

It was then when Adrian felt the fire course through his veins once more and burn his eyes. As the troll charged at him again, he shot towards it. Vaulting off the ground, he plunged a fist into the troll’s skull, cracking it open and sent it smashing against the wall of the temple.

He did not wait to give it any time to recover as he swung his axe and struck its head repeatedly until it gave in.

He stopped to catch his breath for a moment, realizing once again that he was no longer in his prime. When he clenched his fist and tried to heal the gnarly wounds in his left arm, he could not heal all the way.

Jongin rushed to his side. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll live,” Adrian said, still panting a little. Jongin was grimacing at the bleeding arm.

“I told you that I will not be in your way,” the witch let out. “You didn’t have to… protect me.”

Adrian said nothing in response as he walked past Jongin and climbed up the steps of the temple. “Come on.”

“But your arm’s hurt.”

“It is not bad.”

Though Jongin did not argue, he still looked like he was moved to tears. He quietly followed Adrian into the temple.

It was dark. Adrian could barely see where he was going. Jongin too without his little ball of palm light he often conjured when it was dark.

“What is that smell?” Adrian asked when the pungent stench rolled over the corridor.

Jongin was quiet. He was thinking. “I’m not sure, but it smells like… the Mortal Mist.”

“The what?”

Before the boy could elaborate, they were interrupted by the wall that slammed shut behind them, trapping them in an empty room.

“You are here,” said a familiar voice from the darkness. Its echo bowled all over the room. “Can’t say I’m all that surprised.”

“Ialdir,” Adrian spat through his teeth. “Where… is… my… son?”

Through the darkness, Ialdir emerged, flashing his golden teeth. “You have butchered many of my father’s creatures,” he said. “He is quite mad at you.”

“Tell him to cross my path and I will butcher him, too.”

Despite Adrian’s threat, Ialdir laughed. He did not seem nervous, not even in the slightest bit. “You made a mistake coming to our realm.”

Adrian lost it in that moment as he launched the tomahawk in Ialdir’s way. The god dodged it, bursting into clouds of smoke. When he materialized again, he reappeared with the boy.

Kylan dropped to his knees weakly, coughing and whimpering.

“Kylan!” Adrian cried and lurched forward, but he was promptly held back by skeletal arms that struck out of the walls. They caught Jongin too on the other side of the room.

Smashed against the wall, locked in by the skeletal arms, Adrian struggled to break free, to get to his son.

“Pathetic,” Ialdir sighed, sauntering over to Jongin. He stopped before the witch and cocked his head, surveying Jongin’s face. “You really are the most pathetic. Helping the outsider.”

Jongin looked hurt and furious at the same time. He spat on Ialdir’s face.

Laughing, Ialdir wiped his cheek and backhanded Jongin across his face. Adrian groaned, writhing against the bones that were wrapped around him.

“Kylan,” Adrian called. The boy finally raised his head and looked at him, eyes shot with blood, face paler than snow. “Boy! Come to me!”

Kylan pushed himself up to his feet wobblily. Ialdir walked back to him and smiled. “Didn’t you have something to ask your father, Kylan?” he said.

The boy did not move away from Ialdir as stared at his father angrily. What was happening?

Then in a weak, quivering voice, Kylan said, “How did… my mother die?”

Adrian was struck dumb by the question. “Boy!” he growled. “This isn’t the time for it!”

“Oh, we have plenty of time,” snorted Ialdir. “It looks like you have nowhere to go.”

Adrian broke free from one of the arms only to have another grapple at him immediately.

“Answer me!” Kylan shouted at Adrian then with whatever strength he had left, his eyes brimming with tears. He had never looked so devastated, so fierce. Adrian saw his own likeness echoing in the boy in that moment. “How did Mother die?!”

Adrian stilled. He glanced at Ialdir, heart sinking fast. How could he have known?

_No…_

He could not have told the boy.

 _No_.

“I believe your son asked you a very reasonable question, Adrian of Ag’droris.”

“Ag’droris?” Jongin gasped, turning to Adrian with a sharp, alarmed gaze.

Adrian looked down at his son and frowned. “Kylan…”

“So,” the boy let out, despaired and crestfallen. “It is true. You really did… kill my mother.”

Adrian clenched his eyes for a brief moment as sorrow welled up in his chest. “You will not understand.”

When he opened his eyes again, Kylan looked more enraged. “I will not understand?! You are a monster! You are a monster! Now I understand why you never loved me! Why you always hated me!”

“That isn’t true, boy!” Adrian roared at him.

“It is! You never wanted me! You should have killed me too when you killed Mother!”

“Kylan! That is enough!”

The boy turned around and ran to Ialdir, sobbing. Adrian could breathe. His heart felt as though it had stopped beating. He suddenly felt helpless.

“You should have died,” Kylan wept, hugging Ialdir. “You. Not her. She would have loved me.”

For the first time in a very long time, Adrian felt a tear fall from his eye. “Kylan… I do love you. I love you more than anything in this universe, son.”

The boy did not reply as he sobbed in Ialdir’s arms.

“He wants nothing to do with you,” said Ialdir, smiling.

Adrian snarled, summoning the fire, the strength of the godship he had once renounced. “Let… my… son… go.”

“No!” Kylan yapped without looking back at his father. “ _You_ stay away from me!”

“Kylan,” Jongin spoke then. “You are making a mistake. Do not trust him!”

But Kylan was no longer listening to anyone, drowning in the sound of his own sobs.

Jongin desperately looked to Adrian then. “Adrian. Do not lose yourself. It is what he wants! He means to use you to destroy the realm! You are the monster in the prophecy.”

“Oh, you have it all wrong,” Ialdir then said, tightening his arms around Kylan. “The monster my father needs is right here, safe in my arms.”

Both Adrian and Jongin stilled.

“You are mighty, Adrian,” Ialdir added, grinning. “But your son… he is the real deal. He is ill because you do not let him be who he truly is. You hinder his true self. You oppress it. You prevent him from fulfilling his destiny. You are the only thing keeping him from the greatness he was meant for.”

All that Adrian could do in that moment was nothing. He did not understand.

“What are you… talking about?” Adrian said when he could find his voice again.

Ialdir flashed one last smile. “Your son is a god of two realms. He is not only the son of Ag’droris’ God of War. He is also the grandson of Aeyr. I brought you here not to unleash the monster within you, Adrian. I just needed to get you out of the way.” He shrugged at Jongin next. “So long.”

And just like that, he vanished along with Kylan.

“No! Kylan!” Adrian bayed, roaring at the top of his lungs. He could not stop the fire that consumed him then. Flames shot from his eyes and seared through his shirt.

But before he could go much farther, palls of fog rolled into the room. As it quickly filled up the space of the room, it suffocated him.

“Adrian!” Jongin cried, struggling to break free. “We need get out of this mist! It will drown us!”

Adrian reached as high up as he could with the skeletal arms holding him back and sucked in a deep breath since the fog was flooding the floor of the room first. Then holding the breath, he focused on freeing himself of the bones.

When looked up at Jongin, the latter was already turning blue, losing the fight in his body.

_No. I will not lose you too._

Adrian took all of his walls down then.

He let himself be consumed by the rage and strength that made him a god. His eyes lit up in flames as a monstrous might coursed through his body.

Memories of his brutal past flashed before his eyes. All the lives he had slaughtered. Gods and heroes alike. Bad and good.

He shattered the bones enveloping him as he broke free. Still holding his breath, he rushed over to Jongin, who was falling limp in the clasp of the arms.

Breaking every last one of them apart with his bare hands, he caught Jongin before he could fall to the ground, having run out of breath. His eyes were heavy, his skin a sickening shade of blue.

Adrian cupped a side of Jongin’s face with a hand then, as gently and lightly as he could, careful not to hurt the boy with the strength that was flowing through his limbs. With his other arm curled around Jongin’s waist to hold him up, he pressed their lips together and shared the air he had been holding in.

Jongin drew it in sharply, hand clutching and tugging at Adrian’s shirt, eyes shut. He pulled back almost immediately and looked at Adrian in horror, as though he were in pain. His lips had turned red and swollen from just the brief contact of Adrian’s searing hot lips.

Jongin was staring at Adrian’s flaming eyes. His hand was still fisted around Adrian’s shirt. He looked like he wanted to yank Adrian back in but was too afraid of getting burned again.

Adrian pulled away and turned to one of the walls. Balling his hands tightly, he drove his fists one after another into the wall.

As it crumbled, rays of the moonlight squeezed in through the holes and crevices. With no more breaths to spare, Adrian let all of his strength fill his arm before he plunged the fist into the wall, shattering it enough for him and Jongin to get through.

The mist rolled out of the broken wall and dissipated into the air.

Adrian turned back to find Jongin on the ground, limp and unconscious. Picking him up in his arms, Adrian hurriedly made his way out of the temple.

The mist followed them for a short distance, but its poison diminished amidst the trees of the woods.

Gasping in a mouthful of air, Adrian stopped and dropped to his knees, laying Jongin gently on the ground.

“Jongin,” he called, cradling Jongin’s head in his hands. “Please, wake up.”

It took Jongin a few moments to take a breath and return to his consciousness. Coughing and sobbing for air, he sat up and leaned against Adrian’s chest. He pulled away shortly after, however.

Though Adrian was no longer burning, he was still quite hot to the touch. They both sank on the ground and caught their breath in silence.

Adrian’s head was a muddle. He had thought that he had faced everything there was to face in his lifetime. That nothing could surprise him.

But Ialdir had proved him wrong.

Kylan…

Adrian buried his face in his hands and stayed that way for a long moment.

“Adrian,” he heard Jongin say softly, still panting.

Adrian did not respond. He could not say anything. How could he have been so blind? How could he have not seen it?

He felt Jongin’s hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Jongin whispered.

Adrian raised his head and exhaled a heavy breath before he rose to his feet. “I am going after Aeyr,” he growled with a clenched jaw, teeth gnashing. “I will have my son back.”

“Did you really kill his mother?”

Adrian turned and faced Jongin with a sorrowful frown. He nodded. “I did.”

Jongin’s face wilted further. He stood up and dusted the dirt from his trousers. “I cannot help you anymore,” he then said, eyes glassy. “I do not want to.”

Adrian felt his heart sink even deeper. “Will you let Aeyr turn Kylan into a monster and use him as a weapon to destroy your realm and its people, then?”

Jongin’s expression twisted with guilt. “I want to save Kylan. But you are a…”

“A murderer. A monster,” Adrian said. “I know. But there is no reason that Kylan should have to pay for _my_ sins. So, I am begging you. Help me. Help me get to Aeyr.”

Jongin’s teary eyes bored into Adrian’s, whose fire was now stamped out. “You do not understand,” he muttered and walked away, wiping his tears.

There was something else that grieved him.

* * *

When they returned to Rakar’s camp, burned, fatigued, wounded and covered in troll blood, Adrian dismounted the horse and fell to his knees on the ground at once.

“What… the… hell happened to you two?” Rakar let out, mouth hanging open as he stepped away from his workstation.

Jongin did not say anything as he walked past Rakar to get some water.

“Where is the boy?” asked Rakar in a panic.

“Ialdir took him to Aeyr,” said Jongin, his voice thick with sorrow. The fox skipped over to him in excitement. “It’s all lost.”

Rakar scrubbed his face with a hand. “You lost the boy? Fuck.”

Swallowing hard, Adrian rose back up and faced Rakar. “I am getting him back. Even if it means I will have to battle Aeyr.”

“You want to battle… _Aeyr_?” said Rakar in disbelief. “You do know that he is the mightiest god there is.”

“Perhaps in your realm,” Adrian spat. “Where do I find Aeyr?”

Rakar rubbed his chin. “In his home, I suppose.”

“How do I get there?”

“You see, that might be a problem. There isn’t exactly… a road you can take.”

Adrian clenched his fist so hard that he felt his fingernail break the skin of his palm. “There has to be a way.”

Rakar was contemplating something. “Maybe there is.” He glanced back at Jongin, who was scowling at the grass on the ground. He had not said a word to Adrian on the way back. But he had healed the burns on his lips and the rest of his body wherever Adrian had touched as soon as his magic had returned to him.

Adrian wondered why Jongin’s magic did not work around the gods of this realm.

“What are you talking about?” he asked Rakar.

“The Gateway of Gods,” the artificer replied. “It’s not only built for gods to travel to other realms. They can use it to get to any god’s home, world, realm, burrow. Back in those days, the gods used it to get to summits and gatherings and to each other’s dwellings.”

“How does Ialdir travel if the Gateway is broken?”

“You do not need the Gateway to travel within the realm,” pointed out Rakar. “Aeyr and the other gods still do reside in this realm, just in a world different than the world of men. Sort of like… in the heavens. Gods of this realm know how to go in and out of their world. But you do not, do you?”

Adrian gritted his teeth. “So, you are saying that I can use the Gateway to get to this other dimension.”

“Technically, yes. If we can fix it.”

Adrian nodded curtly. “We will leave for the mountains forthwith.”

“Wait, wait!” Rakar yapped, hurtling back to his workbench. “I took a look at the glorious thing you wanted me to fix. Now, how’s that?”

He unwrapped the bundle.

For moments, Adrian could not take his eyes off the weapon. He had wielded it enough times that it had become a part of his limbs. The heads it had felled. The titans it had bested. The gods it had defeated. Adrian felt his breath slip away as he walked over to the workbench.

It was whole again. Magnificent. Matchless.

He curled his hand around its shaft and slowly lifted it.

“What do you call it? All great weapons have a name,” said Rakar.

Adrian gawked at the battleaxe. “Godsbane,” he breathed out.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Isn’t that fitting…” He took the battleaxe away from Adrian’s hand. “Now, it’s not quite finished. I still need Jongin’s magic to give it its final touch.”

Jongin was looking away, lost in his own thoughts. Adrian decided to deal with his situation with Jongin first.

“If you are going straight to Aeyr, you might need more than just this one battleaxe,” said Rakar.

Adrian set his jaw tight and spat, “I am going back to my realm first.”

Jongin turned around then and looked at Adrian confusedly.

“What for?” asked Rakar.

“For some reinforcements,” answered Adrian.

“What sort of reinforcements?”

“A fearsome beast and an arrogant bastard who owes me a favour.”

As he walked away, leaving Rakar wondering, he grabbed Jongin’s arm and yanked him to walk with him.

“Come with me,” he ordered quietly but commandingly as he dragged Jongin into the woods.

End of Book One


	2. Chapter 2

# Book Two

* * *

# Quest One

**Mischief Makers.**

“Unhand me,” the witch hissed furiously, trying to yank his arm free from Adrian’s grip.

Adrian, however, did not, as he hauled Jongin farther into the woods.

Jongin eventually beckoned to a tree then, waving his hand toward it. As though the tree had instantly received his command, it swung one of its branches in Adrian’s way.

Though Adrian managed to dodge the branch’s blow by inches, ducking his head, he released Jongin’s arm and turned around to meet the witch’s angrily furrowed brows and flushed red cheeks.

With a gripped jaw, Adrian glared back at him. Jongin looked like he was on his guard, his shoulders squared, his fingers tense, his lips pouting, his eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring.

“You can resent me all you want,” Adrian told him. “But you promised to help Kylan. You cannot go back on your word now.”

It was uncharacteristic of him to ask, let alone plead, for anyone’s help. Especially that of a witch’s. But he needed Jongin. One way or another. In the past, he had been certain that he needed no one to keep pressing onwards, to survive. He had always made do without anyone’s help or comfort. However, right now, not only did he need all the help that he could get but keeping Jongin by his side was the only way he could stop himself from entirely reassuming his monstrous, godly form. He was not sure that he could save himself again if he went back to the monster he was. Kylan would only hate him more if he blindly destroyed everything the boy had come to accept as his home in order to save him. There was something about Jongin that helped Adrian remain hopeful.

The witch’s expression had softened a little. He looked away, gnashing his teeth. A few snow squirrels crawled up the trees that were surrounding Jongin. They seemed incredibly fascinated, gawking at Jongin with intrigue. It looked as though they were about to pounce on the witch’s back and hug him.

One of them eventually did jump onto Jongin’s shoulder and started rifling through the witch’s hair excitedly. Jongin barely flinched. He looked up at Adrian again. His eyes betrayed him for a moment when they glanced to Adrian’s injured arm and looked at it pitifully.

“I did make a promise,” he muttered, eyes sheening with some sort of an inner conflict. “But there is nothing that I can do when you want to contest a _god_. And not just any god. We are talking about Aeyr here.”

Adrian rubbed his forehead and his beard, huffing in frustration. “Ialdir said that… Kylan is Aeyr’s… grandson.” He felt a thick lump in his throat then, which made it impossible for him to get any more words out. The possibility that was staring at him right now sent a chill down his spine.

Jongin picked the white squirrel from his shoulder and released it to the ground before he nervously rubbed an arm with a hand. “Does that mean… Kylan’s mother was… Aalitra?”

Adrian froze altogether and stared at the witch for a long minute, blood draining from his face as the rest of his body numbed. “How do you… know her name?” he let out when he found his voice again.

Jongin kept his head low, as though he were trying to hide his pained, sour expression. When he spoke again, he sounded hoarse and breathless. “Aalitra. She was the Goddess of Tenacity.”

Adrian could not believe his ears in that moment. He knew that the witch was telling the truth, but it still sounded like it was the furthest thing from the truth. Not in any moment of his life in the past eight years had he even considered the notion of Aalitra being a god. His heart clenched in a way like no other. His throat felt so tight that he thought he was drowning.

He crashed to his knees on the ground and stared vacantly at his callused palms. “A god,” he exhaled lifelessly. “She was a… god.”

“That would make Kylan twice the god you thought he was,” said Jongin with sudden sobriety and solemnity in his voice. He dropped to his knees before Adrian then. “It is what’s been ailing him,” he rasped. “The secrets that you keep from him. The godship within him is struggling to surface itself. It is fighting him and the false reality he is taught to believe in order to unleash his true identity, his true powers so that he can follow his true fate.”

“He is… just a child,” Adrian let out, a sob choking in his throat as he recalled the way Kylan had looked at him at the temple. There was hate, there was betrayal in his eyes. But most of all, there was a determination to never forgive his father for his deception and lies.

“A god is a god,” said Jongin. “No matter a child or a man. He has a destiny he must fulfil. As a god, he cannot shirk his divine decrees. It is the… fallacy of all gods. They are not as free as the mortals believe them to be. The forfeiture of a god’s duties comes with its own damnation.”

Adrian drew a deep breath. “I should have… told him the truth. From the beginning. I should have told him everything. I was trying to protect him when I was the one who was actually killing him without even knowing it. I had brought him into this mess.”

He felt tears sting his eyes. After some hesitance, Jongin raised a hand to Adrian’s shoulder. Though the touch had been comforting, Adrian could tell, by the way Jongin’s hand was trembling, that the witch had no heart or desire to touch him or even be in such close proximity with him.

Jongin retrieved his hand shortly after and pulled back. “I do feel sorry for your situation, Adrian,” he murmured. “I truly do. In spite of everything, I can see your love for your son. It is as clear as the day. I can see that he means everything to you. But I cannot help you.”

Adrian met Jongin’s bloodshot eyes. “Because I murdered my own wife and am the reason why Kylan is motherless?”

Jongin swallowed hard and rose to his feet. “You said that you had killed many before at your father’s bidding. What reason did you have for killing the mother of your child?”

“She was a god.”

“Did you… really not know?”

“I would never take a god’s hand in marriage,” Adrian spat through his teeth with disgust. “let alone bear a child with one. I would have killed her the instant I knew.”

Jongin’s jaw fell slack, and he winced as though Adrian’s words had stabbed him. “How could you say such a thing?” he breathed out, horrified.

Adrian pushed himself up to his full height and faced the witch with a vicious glower. “I trust no god,” he growled. “They have given me no reason to!”

Jongin staggered back a few steps until he was slammed against a tree. His eyes were glistening with furious tears now. “Not all of them are evil. The Goddess Aalitra had given you a child. She had married you!”

Adrian closed the distance between them and raised his hand to Jongin’s jaw. Cupping it tightly, he forced the witch to look him in his blazing eyes. “And now I know why,” he snarled menacingly at Jongin, his breath grazing Jongin’s lips.

In that moment, Jongin did nothing but stare into Adrian’s eyes like he was completely spooked. Their breathings were ragged and loud, and Adrian’s chest was heaving.

Adrian realized that Jongin’s pulse that was beating hard against his fingers, that were gripping the underside of his jaw, was due to a racing heart. The witch looked febrile enough to drop unconscious.

Releasing him at last, Adrian pulled away from altogether and started stomping away.

“What do you mean?” Jongin asked after him. “What do you know?”

Adrian did not answer him as he returned to the camp to begin preparations for their journey to the mountains. He did not stop fuming, however, even as the day wore on.

It had been his fault. Once again, he had allowed himself to fall for a god’s trickery. He had let himself be fooled by one again. He let himself be manipulated. His powers, his godship would always be a weapon for the gods to exploit.

Adrian had fled his home realm, hoping that this new realm would bring him peace. Instead, here he was, playing a pawn in a god’s game once more. Part of him wanted to unleash the monster inside him and wipe every last one of the gods off the face of the universe.

But he knew he no longer harboured that sort of strength. His priority now was to save Kylan. There were still too many things that he was yet to tell the boy.

“You should get some rest before we leave at first light,” Rakar told Adrian later during the night. He tossed an apple over to Adrian. “You all right?”

Adrian did not respond, though he sank a bite into the fruit. He did not know what else the roads had in store for him. He needed to regain his energy in order to be able to face the obstacles that would inevitably be thrown in his way.

Sighing, Rakar sat down on the ground next to him. “I don’t know what else happened at that temple or why Jongin is acting like you’ve rattled his cage but getting to the mountains and the Gateway would be pointless without him. I cannot fix the Gateway without a witch.”

Adrian glared at the small patch of grass on the ground for a moment before he raised his gaze and looked at the witch, who was seated under Rakar’s work tent with the fox curled up on his lap and a tiny ball of light floating around him in circles. He looked like he was deep in his thoughts.

“We will find another witch,” Adrian said, though he knew that it would only take longer to find another witch, and even if they managed to get one on short notice, there was no guarantee that _that_ witch would be willing to help them.

Rakar made a face at him. “Another witch?” he scoffed. “Oh, yes, of course. Capable witches are not in short supply in this realm. Especially one that would love the company of a god from another realm.”

Adrian arched an eyebrow at him. “You know?”

“I connected the dots,” snorted Rakar. “Besides, only gods can traverse the Gateway of Gods.”

Adrian sighed. “I… did some horrible things in the past. I can understand if… Jongin does not forgive me or want to help me.”

Rakar rubbed his temples. “Your poor boy does not have to suffer for his principles. He knows that, too.”

“Then what is holding him back?” Adrian asked, and Rakar’s twisted expression gave something away.

“Perhaps… he feels betrayed.”

“How so?”

Rakar shrugged. “He might have hoped for something that now seems impossible.”

Adrian frowned. “Like what?”

Rakar did not answer him. “It isn’t my place to impose.” He stood up. “Let me try and talk to him. I don’t think it’s wise for you to pin your hopes on getting your hands on another witch. Most of them would rather just spell you to their bidding or cut your heart out for potions.”

“And you think _he_ doesn’t harbour such intentions?” asked Adrian, nodding his head towards Jongin.

Rakar scoffed. “I think even someone as cynical and untrusting as you can see that he is harmless.”

Adrian recalled how the witch spelled a tree to hit him in the head earlier, but sure, let’s dub him ‘harmless’.

As he lay on the ground, he was sleepless. On the one hand, his arm, which had not completely healed from the wounds that were manifested by the troll earlier, was making it difficult for him to rest. And on the other, he was cudgelling his brain over Kylan.

He refused to believe what Ialdir had said back at the temple. About Kylan being the prophesied monster that would bring about the end of the realm. Adrian had wanted the chain of destruction to break with him. He never intended to pass his sins down to his son. Whatever that was happening to Kylan now had been Adrian’s fault.

While he was recollecting everything that had happened at Zaris, he promptly remembered pressing his mouth against Jongin’s to share his breath. Did the witch think anything of it, or was it only Adrian who was foolishly losing his sleep over it?

He threw an arm over his eyes and told himself to rest. The journey ahead required him to recuperate from his exertion in the past few days fast. So, he forced himself to stop brooding. All was not lost yet. He had never conceded defeat to anyone under any circumstance. He persevered and always emerged victorious. This would be no different, he was convinced. He was not sure if it were hope or blind faith or even arrogance. But he was determined to obliterate all who had taken his son away from him.

He was determined to see his son again and ask for his forgiveness.

* * *

Rakar woke him up a few hours before sunup. Sitting up, Adrian looked at the artificer’s face that was racked with dread.

“Wake up,” he said worriedly. “I have some bad news.”

Adrian’s first impulse made him look to the tent where he had last seen Jongin. “Where is he?” he asked at once when he did not find the witch anywhere around the camp.

“He’s… gone,” said Rakar, frowning.

Adrian scrambled up to his feet and stood there, devastated for a moment. Though he had told Rakar that he would understand Jongin if the boy was not willing to forgive or help him anymore, he was unable to digest the idea of Jongin leaving him, too. Kylan was not exactly taken. He _wanted_ to get away from Adrian. He left. Just like how Jongin had left.

But then the fox came leaping over to Adrian, squealing in distress. It rose on its hindlegs and reached up Adrian’s shin, looking up at him, as though it wanted to tell him something.

Jongin would not leave without the fox, would he? Qinto was so far away from his home in the Red Woods.

“That’s not the bad news, though,” Rakar sighed, walking over to the tent. He crouched to the ground and pointed to the prints in the soil. “Goblins.”

“What?” Adrian spat, frowning at the artificer with confusion.

“I believe goblins have taken him,” said Rakar. “Along with one of our horses.” He sighed.

Adrian looked to where the horses were previously hitched at. One of them was missing. “Just the thing I needed,” he huffed. The journey to the mountains had not even begun, and he was already faced with a hiccup.

“But goblins are just mischief makers. They do it for fun. They are tiny, too. They could not have gotten too far,” said Rakar. “They usually live in dark, damp ditches or dugouts.”

“Is there any nearby?”

“Luckily, for us,” Rakar said, smirking as he jerked his chin at the trail of little footprints on the ground. “They are not very clever.”

Adrian pulled his boots and threw his cloak on at once. “How did the witch even get kidnapped?!”

Rakar lowered himself to the ground again and inspected the blanket Jongin had been sleeping on. “I’m guessing he must have been asleep.”

Adrian joined the artificer’s side and found traces of reddish-purple splotches on the blanket. Touching them with his fingers, he sniffed the purplish liquid.

“Moonry Plums,” he muttered, wincing at the sharp and distinct smell of the plums. They were poisonous enough to kill a child and put a grownup in a state of unconsciousness.

“Goblins are known for their tricks. Devilish little creatures,” Rakar grumbled. “So, don’t eat or drink anything they give you, don’t listen to the songs they sing, and definitely don’t stay there long enough for them to figure out your weakness.”

Adrian marched over to the workbench and picked up the battleaxe.

“Wait, that’s not finished,” rasped Rakar. “Besides, you would not need a toothpick, let alone a battleaxe, to handle a handful of goblins.” He rolled his eyes.

Adrian set Godsbane back down on the workbench and looked to the goblin tracks on the ground. “I’ll be back shortly with him. You get ready to leave for the mountains.”

“Hold on,” Rakar stopped him again. “Why are you doing this?”

That halted Adrian for a length, and he glanced back at the artificer. “What?”

Rakar shrugged. “I mean, if Jongin has made up his mind to not help you anymore, then he is of no import to you. His safety should not concern you. Why are you helping _him_?”

That was right. Why was Adrian ready to go to Jongin’s rescue when the witch had washed his hands of him and wanted nothing more to do with him?

Rakar’s question struck Adrian dumb.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Rakar smiled, in spite of the dire situation they were in. Or rather Jongin was in. “Perhaps there’s more to you than meets the eye, Adrian.”

Adrian exhaled heavily and turned his back to the artificer. As he started following the trail of footprints, he also kept an eye on the rune on his palm. It would surely light up when the goblins were nearby. When he momentarily looked away from the tracks and gazed up at the sky, he did not see any clusters of stars. The sky was as bleak and dark as Adrian’s own soul.

Sucking in a deep breath, he broke into a sprint, following the goblin tracks. He only slowed down when the footprints became too jumbled up to form a straight, followable track. The rune in his hand was blinking now. The goblins were close by.

Adrian tried to listen through the silence of the woods. Eventually, he caught a faint echo of a distant cacophony. It sounded a lot like a disgruntled monkey’s hoot.

Running towards the source of the discordant echoes, he shot past the trees. The daybreak’s wind coursed in the direction he was advancing. The branches on the trees he raced passed rustled, as though to show him the way.

He came to a halt when he reached a hollow at the base of a massive tree. It led down to a dugout that seemed like an overlarge rabbit burrow. And from there rolled out a jangling din full of screeches and rumbles.

Adrian had never come across goblins, but their calls sounded similar to the squawks of the pesky imps he had encountered in hell back in his realm.

He looked up when he heard a horse’s soft whinny. “Bonzo,” he rasped, rushing over to the horse that was tangled up in vines on the ground. He quickly released the animal from its captivity and stepped back as the horse scurried up to its hooves. Catching its reins then, Adrian patted on its neck to calm it down. “There. There.”

Tying the reins to a nearby tree, he turned to the hollow under the tree again.

As he climbed into the burrow, he thought about what Rakar had told him. Why was he looking out for the witch’s safety? He did not need this right now. He already had his plate full. There was only one priority. Kylan. But here he was, saving Jongin from a bunch of forest goblins.

Though the entrance of the dugout was so tight that Adrian struggled to squeeze through it, he soon climbed into a wider and taller tunnel that allowed him enough room to stand on his feet. He heard the inharmonious chants grow louder and felt a series of thumps on the ground beneath his booted feet.

It smelled like bear shit everywhere he turned. The farther he crept through the dugout, the darker it was. He eventually came to a stop when he saw his first goblin.

It came to an abrupt standstill upon noticing the intruder. It did not look much different from the hell imps. It had a long tail, bulging red eyes, a pale, green hide, and horns. Unlike hell imps, it did not have any wings. It was as small as a mountain goat.

“ _Eeh_ ,” it let out, tilting its head to a side, blinking its big eyes at Adrian. Then gasping, it turned around and screamed. Adrian gave it a kick on its rump before it could run away, sending it flying against the wall of the dugout.

It screeched and scrambled back up to its feet before it scampered away, flailing its arms in the air in panic. Adrian followed it further into the burrow until he found a mob of goblins, hopping up and down with giddy excitement, cantillating in croaks and clucks.

They stopped all of a sudden as their heads turned to Adrian. Most of them seemed confused, some of them were immediately alarmed.

It was not after a few moments did Adrian notice the limp, unclothed body that was lying on the ground in the midst of the goblins. His heart nearly dropped out of his chest when he realized that it was Jongin. He was still unconscious, and all of his clothes had been torn into shreds.

Adrian scowled at the slow-witted goblins that continued to gawk and squawk at him. He raised a forefinger and pressed it to his lips, ordering the strange creatures to quiet down.

Much to his surprise, they fall silent right away. “Good,” Adrian said under his breath and stepped forward. “Now, get out of my way.”

As he advanced through the crowd, the goblins jostled aside, making way for Adrian. Some of them gasped and scurried away in fear. Adrian did not know why they heeded him or why they instantly feared him, but he did not want to find out.

Upon reaching Jongin, who was unmoving on the ground, curled up like a shrimp, eyes tightly shut, Adrian dropped to his knees and frowned at the boy pitifully. He did not know how the goblins had managed to get past Jongin’s usual guard, that was always up and on, and poison him with Moonry Plums, but he was pretty knocked out. Adrian checked for a pulse. It was there, though slow and faint.

Taking his cloak off then, he covered and wrapped Jongin up in it before scooping the boy up into his arms. It was the second time in less than two days he had gotten to carry the witch in his arms. This time, Jongin was in a deeper slumber. But he was just as delicate and light.

The goblins cried grievously and closed around him as he tried to take Jongin away from them. They scuttled out of his way when he pinned them with a harsh glower, tacitly warning them to stay put.

Even as he clambered out of the burrow and mounted the horse, Jongin did not rouse. Adrian held him close to his chest as he reined the horse towards the camp.

“You found him!” Rakar yelped when Adrian returned to the camp. He quickly hurried over to give Adrian a hand with Jongin. “Did you kill those goblins?”

Adrian shook his head, curling one arm around the witch’s waist and the other around his legs to lift him up again. “I did not,” he muttered, bearing Jongin to the tent.

“Why not? I thought killing everything in your path is your style,” Rakar scoffed.

“They did not challenge me,” said Adrian. “I have no reason to waste my strength on those who do not pose a threat. They let me take him without a fight.”

“Why is he buck naked?”

Settling him down on the blanket, Adrian frowned at the boy’s ashen face and tugged the cloak tighter around him. “His clothes were ruined.”

“Ah, yes,” Rakar sighed. “Goblins are well-known nudists, who loathe any form of clothing. I will find him some of my own clothes.”

“Is he… going to be all right?” asked Adrian, staring at Jongin’s face. The witch closed eyes were lined with pretty, dark lashes. Adrian could not look away from them.

“He will be fine,” Rakar said. “Moonry Plums would not kill him. The goblins probably took him and the horse to have a bit of fun. But we _would_ have to delay our departure to the mountains. Unless, of course, you want to leave him behind.”

Adrian was certain that Rakar would not leave Jongin behind, only to be put in danger once more. In fact, he knew exactly that the artificer was trying to derive a particular reaction out of him.

Adrian gave it to him, despite his stubbornness, because in that moment, as he watched the way Jongin, he felt all of his pride, rage and grief slip away. They became nothing but distant echoes.

“I don’t want to leave him behind,” he murmured quietly, kneeling beside the sleeping witch.

Rakar said nothing as he walked away, smirking.

* * *

As the sun slowly started to ascend the horizon, the sky was painted with streaks of pink and orange. Adrian rubbed his wounded arm from where he was sitting at the mouth of the tent. Behind him, he could hear the witch’s breathing, rising and falling steadily. The baby fox was asleep too, all balled up on Jongin’s belly.

“I have to micturate, so keep an eye on him?” Rakar said, placing a shirt and a pair of trousers in the tent near the sleeping witch.

Adrian cocked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know what the means,” he said gruffly.

Rakar sighed. “Well, speaking in brute terms, I have to cock my leg at a tree.”

Adrian scoffed. “Better. But that’s not how men talk either.”

Rolling his eyes, Rakar walked toward the trees. Adrian sighed and rubbed his forehead. It was not until he felt a set of slender fingers caress his injured arm that he realized Jongin’s breathing had fallen silent.

Adrian turned his head around and glanced at Jongin, who had his eyes partly open. “Goblins,” he whispered hoarsely, retrieving his hand from Adrian’s arm.

When he looked down at it, the troll’s bite had been healed, leaving behind a gnarly scar. Adrian thought of thanking the witch for a moment, but Jongin took the words from his mouth before he could.

“Thank you,” he let out.

“You must have let your guard down,” Adrian muttered, facing away.

The witch was quiet for a length before he said, “I did.” He then sat up and frowned at the cloak that he was wrapped in. “My… clothes…”

Adrian did not say anything as he continued to clench his jaw. When he glanced back once more, he found the witch all flushed red and embarrassed. He tugged at the cloak around his shoulders and hung his head.

“I didn’t touch or look at you inappropriately,” Adrian spat through his teeth. “if that’s what you are worried about.”

Jongin raised his head and looked at Adrian with a deep frown. “I wasn’t…” he whimpered out but trailed off, turning his face away. “I was so stupid. I let a bunch of goblins kidnap me with some Moonry Plums.”

“Happens to us all,” Adrian mumbled, trying to stop scowling, but he was unable to. “Don’t beat yourself up for it.”

He then rose to his feet.

“The artificer left you his clothes,” he told the trembling witch. “You should get dressed and… be on your way.”

Jongin craned his head up at him and looked at him piteously. “You are not going to… convince me to go with you?”

Adrian crossed his arms over his chest. “No. And it isn’t because I can’t make you help me. But I’m trying to be better than that. Even if you have absolutely no reason to believe me.”

“I do,” Jongin murmured. “You… saved me from the goblins. You did not have to.” He hugged his arms around his shivering body.

“It was nothing,” Adrian said and turned on his heel to walk away.

“Wait,” the witch breathed out as he climbed up to his feet, crawling out of the tent. As he approached Adrian, the latter tried to keep his eyes from wandering to all the parts of Jongin’s body that the cloak was not covering.

Jongin stopped before him and stared into his eyes, hands holding the cloak up against his chest.

“I will… go with you,” he said. Adrian continued to pin him with an unblinking sharp gaze. The witch lowered his eyes. “I will help you get your son back.”

“You do not have to pay me back for saving you from the goblins,” Adrian said. “You have already done me enough favours.”

“It isn’t a favour,” said Jongin, taking a step forward as he brought his head up again to meet Adrian’s gaze. “This is… something I must do.”

Adrian had no idea what that meant. But he was not going to ask. And Jongin was standing so close that all of his senses were suddenly filled with the scent and heat of the witch’s skin.

Rubbing the nape of his neck, Adrian nodded his head. As he tried to turn around, Jongin stopped him, hand catching and fisting around Adrian’s shirt.

With his brows raised, Adrian stared at the witch’s hand that was curled around the front of his shirt. “What are you doing?” he asked, jaw locked.

Jongin’s gaze was soft, though his hold was hard. “I want to know the truth,” he said in a very low voice. “About you. About your past.”

It was taking Adrian all of his strength and willpower to not to lunge at the witch in that moment. He was not sure he wanted to hurt the boy or do something even worse.

He took hold of Jongin’s wrist and yanked his hand away from the shirt. He did not release the wrist immediately, however. “You will not make such demands,” he told the witch, letting go of him at last. “I do not owe you any truth.”

With that, he strutted away, though his heart was racing in his chest. As much as he tried to convince himself that he did not care whether or not Jongin believed him to be a heartless monster, as Kylan did, he desperately wished that someone would hear his sorrows out for once. He truly was trying to be a better man. He _was_ a better man than he had been. But some truths were hard to get rid of. They’d eat away at a man’s soul no matter how much he tried to run away from them.

When he briefly glanced over his shoulder, he found the witch heading back to the tent where he promptly let the cloak slip off his shoulders and fall to the ground. Adrian did not look away immediately as he let his eyes linger on the witch’s tan back for a minute too long.

Clenching his fists eventually, Adrian averted his gaze before he could let it wander a little too far.

* * *

# Quest Two

**Plane of Dreams.**

Jongin rode with Rakar. Adrian tried not to think much of it, but when he somehow ended up thinking about it anyway, he convinced himself that it was for the better. Even though Jongin had agreed to help him, Adrian decided that it would be good for everyone if he kept his distance from the witch.

“How did the goblins even managed to get Moonry Plums into you?” Rakar asked as they rode through the woods.

Jongin exhaled a heavy breath from where he was sitting, mounted on the horse behind Rakar. “I have no idea,” he muttered. “I was asleep. Distracted.”

“You ought to keep your wits about you, beautiful,” said Rakar. “The path does not get any easier from here, and goblins should be the least of our worries.”

“I am aware,” the witch sighed. Adrian could feel Jongin’s gaze on him now. He fought the urge to meet that gaze and kept his eyes on the path ahead.

He turned his thoughts elsewhere. Whenever he was not thinking about Jongin, he was overwrought with the thoughts of his son. He was not sure which dilemma afflicted him more at this point. He never should have stayed in Kylan’s life. He never should have tried to be a father. He should have known that in this life, he would not attain peace.

And perhaps it was a reasonable punishment for his wrongdoings and sins. But it would not be fair for his son to be punished for his sins.

“I could cook up an armour for you,” Rakar told Adrian, looking over to Adrian at one point.

“An armour that can defend me against your gods?” Adrian shot back at him.

“Do not insult my mastery,” Rakar scoffed. “Of course, my armour can… withstand even a god’s strength.”

Adrian pinned him with cocked brow then. He had gone to battles donning armours before, but all of his armours were forged by a horde of armourers who had been supplying the gods with armours and weapons for epochs. Even then, most of the armours could not bear up against gods for too long.

Before he could reply to the artificer, a loud, discordant screech of a woman that blared through the trees halted them. Reining the horse to a stop, Adrian quickly glanced down at his palm, only to see the rune glinting bright.

“What is it?” he asked, looking to Jongin.

“Walkers,” the witch let out as he gazed at the trees with a frown. “Someone is in trouble.”

“Then it is not our concern.” Adrian took hold of the horse’s reins and dug the heel of his foot into the horse to get it moving again.

“What do you mean it is not our concern?” Jongin rasped as the woman screamed again. He was already climbing off the horse’s back.

Adrian halted again and scowled at the witch. “The Dreygurs do not stop us. Thus, they do not worry us.”

Jongin glowered at him then, huffing and puffing like an angry child. The baby fox peeped its head out from the saddlebag it was in but did not follow the witch as the latter turned on his heel and started for the source of the cry.

Adrian groaned and dismounted the horse before stomping over to the witch. Grabbing Jongin’s arm, he yanked the witch around to face him. “If we stop to help everybody who cry for help in our way, we will never get to the mountains!”

Jongin’s gaze looked pained, as though he were disappointed in Adrian yet again. He tore his arm away from Adrian’s grip and said, “Your son would have wanted to help her.”

Adrian paused, his hard expression softening into one of disbelief.

“You said that you are trying to be a better man,” Jongin spat at him. “Better men do not walk away in silence when he could help someone.”

Adrian supposed Jongin was one of the better men, then. He chose to help Adrian instead of walking away.

He could see that this was important to the witch. He had to be of the purest of hearts to be this naïve, generous and kind-hearted. He reminded Adrian of Kylan’s innocence.

And he was right. The boy would have wanted to help whoever that was in danger right now.

Adrian sighed and started towards the sound.

“Wait,” Rakar called after him. “Don’t you need a weapon?!”

Adrian did not respond. Jongin hurried after him.

“I do not need your help,” the witch said. Adrian said nothing to that either. He was sure Jongin would have gotten by fine on his own. But it would probably be faster if Adrian took care of it.

They found a fairly old woman cornered to a tree, surrounded by three Dreygurs. Only one of them was armed with a blunt sickle.

“Keep away!” the hag yapped at them, waving her hands towards them. A hex, Adrian realized. Her magic was weak and pointless against the Dreygurs. It barely staggered them at their pace.

Jongin grunted beside Adrian as he lifted a hand, commanding the tree’s roots from the ground under. As they snaked around one of the Dreygurs’ legs, promptly sweeping it off its feet, Adrian grabbed another by the back of its neck before he slammed its head against a branch.

Then plunging his hands through the Dreygur’s chest, he ripped the creature apart and tossed its halved body to the ground before he lunged at another. He drove his fist into the walking corpse’s gut and arched his arm up. Clutching at the Dreygur’s insides, he quickly gutted it and booted it on its chest, sending it flying to the ground.

When he turned to the last one that was caught in the tree roots, he found Jongin gawking at him in something akin to horror. Though the look sent a pang to Adrian’s heart, he swiftly killed the remaining Dreygur as well and tried not to acknowledge the terrified look on the witch’s face again.

“They’re already dead,” he spat through his teeth as he shoved past Jongin. He did not have to justify his violence against dead, evil beings. But something about the way Jongin looked at him every time he killed someone made his stomach knot.

“I… I know,” the witch let out, his voice quivering.

“Oh, my,” the hex gasped, falling to the ground on all fours. “How can I thank you?!” she cried as she looked up at Adrian and Jongin. Her frizzy grey hair was all over the place. She was dressed in rags and was covered in talismans like most hexes were.

“You don’t have to,” Jongin told her, even though he seemed a little uncomfortable talking to the hex.

She rose to her feet and turned her eyes that were milky with age to him. She mustered from head to toe for a moment, as though she were trying to decipher him.

Jongin’s cheeks reddened palpably, and he glimpsed Adrian in embarrassment. “We should go,” he muttered and started to turn around.

“Wait!” the hex exclaimed, turning to Adrian. She removed a talisman from her neck and handed it out to Adrian. “I do not have much to offer, but here. This does not do much for me, but for a man like you, it should provide you with some protection. It will keep you from… unwanted distractions.”

Adrian fixed the hag with a scowl, though he did accept the talisman eventually. He considered tossing it away on his way back to the horses and Rakar, but he glanced over to Jongin, who still looked queasy, and pocketed it instead.

“Oh, good. You’re back,” Rakar sighed as soon as he caught the sight of them.

* * *

They stopped for rest when the sun was at its highest point in the sky.

Rakar dragged Adrian aside to take his measurements for an armour, in spite of Adrian telling him that he did not need one.

“Trust me,” Rakar had said with a snort. “You do.”

As he measured the breadth of Adrian’s chest, the artificer arched a suggestive brow at him.

“You are impressively well-built for a dad,” said Rakar, running his hands down Adrian’s chest.

Adrian refrained himself from rolling his eyes. “Do you always get this handsy with all of your customers?”

“Only the incredibly good-looking ones,” said the artificer with a shrug. Adrian glanced over to Jongin, who was perched on a log, staring at Rakar’s hands that were wandering all over Adrian’s body.

Once the artificer was satisfied with his measurements, he grabbed a stalk of charcoal and a piece of parchment to outline the design and specifications of the armour.

Adrian debated for a moment whether or not to approach Jongin. When he saw the witch raise his conflicted gaze at him, he sighed and marched over to the boy.

“You can judge me all you want,” Adrian told him gruffly. “but this is what I do. It is what I was born to do. To mercilessly rip things apart. I do not have a conscience when I’m doing it. That is part of the truth that you wanted me to share with you.”

Jongin looked away, gnawing at his lower lip. It got so red and tender that it unnerved Adrian. He kept his eyes from Jongin’s lips. “I know they were evil, unholy creatures that deserve to be put to death,” he muttered. “But I just… I can’t bring myself to be as… cutthroat as you.”

Adrian dropped to a crouch before the witch. “Why is that a problem? Why is it troubling you?”

Jongin tried to hide his face without much success. “Because you think that I am weak and naïve.”

Adrian clenched his jaw, exhaling a few heavy breaths. “You have no reason to care about what I think.”

Jongin’s expression hardened then, and his brows furrowed into a scowl. “But I do,” he hissed. “I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. Even after everything, even after know what I know about you, even after all the things that you’ve said to me, I c-can’t…” he trailed off, dropping his gaze to his palms.

Adrian did not know what to say. Perhaps asking the witch to go the rest of the way with him to the mountains was the worst decision he had ever made.

“Close your heart to it,” was all that Adrian could tell him before he rose back to his full height.

Jongin closed his eyes. “You do not flinch away or get furious when… Rakar touches you,” he let out.

Adrian grimaced at the witch. “What?” he spat.

The witch said nothing else. He simply shook his head and did not meet Adrian’s gaze again.

Adrian slid his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the talisman the hex had given him. After surveying the green, wooden charm hanging on the thin leather strip, he held the talisman out to Jongin.

“I do not think I trust a juju from a hex to protect me much,” he grumbled.

Jongin looked at the talisman for a moment before he raised his head. “You’re giving it… to me?”

Adrian licked his lips.

The witch lowered his eyes back to the talisman and retrieved it gently from Adrian’s hand.

“You can toss it away if you do not want it,” Adrian said before he walked back to Rakar. Jongin sat there quietly with the fox at his side and broodingly stared at the talisman.

* * *

“You seem glum,” Adrian heard Rakar say to Jongin when they were back on the road. They had fallen a little behind Adrian.

The witch muttered something in reply that was too silent for Adrian to hear. He was hugging the artificer, arms wrapped around Rakar’s waist, face leaned against the other man’s back. Adrian clenched his teeth. He did not doubt Rakar’s intentions toward the witch. He trusted them to be honest and uncorrupted. So, then why was there a bitter taste in his mouth? Was he envious of the intimacy Jongin shared with another man? What reasons did Adrian have to envy such a thing? Especially when he kept telling Jongin to close his heart to it.

Did he long for such an intimacy, too? He made do just fine without it for many, many years. So, why all of a sudden? What was different? What was it about the witch that made him feel all these complicated emotions?

Anger, rage, sorrow, grief. They were all that Adrian was familiar with. They made sense to him. They felt right. Whatever it was that he had been feeling lately every time the witch was near him was alien to him. Strange and confusing.

When they stopped again much later in the night, they quickly settled on the ground on top of the makeshift beds, made from the tent canvases and blankets. Rakar and Jongin were fast to fall asleep while Adrian stayed up, watching the witch in the dark.

Jongin seemed to be deep in his slumber, his brows furrowed together in something like concentration, the corners of his lips quirked down, his hand fisted tightly around the blanket. The fox had squeezed in between his arm and chest as he lay there on his side.

It almost looked as though he were not actually asleep. Was he dreaming, Adrian wondered. Had he been in a sleep so deep when the goblins had snatched him, too?

Sighing, Adrian draped an arm over his forehead and gazed at the star-spangled night sky. “I am coming for you, Kylan,” he muttered, wishing that his son could hear him. “I am sorry. For everything that I have kept from you.”

As he continued to observe the sky, he was reminded of a night much like this, though it had been a slightly warmer one, when he heard a knock on the door of his new home. A knock that had changed his life forever.

* * *

_He had only put the door up this afternoon. And he knew no one from this realm. No one who would come knocking on his door at this ungodly hour. He sat up on his pallet and grabbed the woodcutter’s axe before he started for the door._

_He readied himself for a fight. Could they have found him? He had left his home behind, in search for another. He did not want to have another fight. But he had given the gods of his realm every reason to bring a fight to him._

_But when he prised the door open with his axe in one hand, he was surprised to find a shivering woman at his doorstep. At first, Adrian thought that it was yet another old hex that passed his home. She was clad in a cloak. She looked tall. Taller than most women Adrian had come across in this realm._

_And then she drew her head cowl back to let down a long length of dark auburn hair and to reveal a pleasant face. She was… beautiful. High cheekbones, sharp nose, fair skin, long eyelashes, striking dark eyes. There was even a shimmer to her skin. When she parted her full, plump lips to speak, Adrian could not look away._

_“I am sorry to intrude,” she said, her voice as silky as butter or honey. She sounded confident and bold as she spoke. “But may I trouble you for some warmth and shelter from the cold night?”_

_Adrian opened his mouth to refuse and turn her away. But then he met her eyes again. Her gaze was impressively steady. Not even men dared to look at Adrian with such tenacity. He applauded the woman for her courage._

_“I will not stay for long,” she said, her lips stretching into a faint smile. Adrian blinked his eyes a few times before he exhaled heavily and held the door open for the woman to enter._

_She walked into the newly built cabin and removed her cloak. Adrian closed the door and stood by it for a long moment, staring at the stranger in his home._

_She turned around and faced him once again, smiling, hands holding the cloak. “I ran away from home,” she said, glancing away eventually. “In case you are wondering what a woman like me is doing in the middle of night, wandering in the woods.”_

_“I wasn’t,” Adrian spat gruffly and set the axe aside. “You must leave at first light.”_

_She nodded. “Thank you.”_

_Adrian grabbed his own cloak then. “Take anything of mine and I will rip your arms off.” With that, he turned to the door again._

_“Have you never talked to a woman before?”_

_Adrian halted and turned back to the woman, scowling. “What?”_

_She smiled sheepishly and let out a soft chuckle. “Most men do not… threaten to rip my arms off.”_

_“I’m not most men,” spat Adrian and turned his back to her again._

_“I can see that,” she said. Adrian stopped with his hand raised to the handle of the door. “Most men would not let a woman into his house and then leave her alone.”_

_Gritting his teeth, Adrian yanked the door open and stepped out before slamming it shut behind him. He did not wander all that far away from the house. But he did not return to it until the sun had made way for daybreak._

_He found the woman seated on the edge of his pallet, not a hair out of place. “Leave my home,” he told her._

_She smiled at him and rose to her feet. It was then when Adrian smelled the seared fish and cloudberry pie. “I made you some food to thank you for offering me a place to stay last night.”_

_Adrian glanced over to the food sitting by the windowsill and glowered. “I did not ask you to.”_

_“But I wanted to return the favour.”_

_She returned the favour in more than one way that day. Soon, Adrian was having a hard time asking her to leave._

_She ended up staying another night. This time, Adrian stayed with her. “My name is Aalitra,” she said as they ate. “Do you know what it means?”_

_Adrian stuffed another bit of fish into his mouth. “I do not know what it means. I do not care.”_

_She laughed softly. “It means… persistence.” She placed another fish on his plate. “What is_ your _name?”_

_Adrian hesitated to answer. “Adrian,” he said at length._

_It was the first time a woman had smiled at him the way Aalitra did. The women—and men—back in his realm were terrified of him. They screamed and fled at the sight of him. He was nothing but a merciless, brutal monster._

_But Aalitra knew nothing of the kind of man he was. Her smile seemed genuine._

_“Is there a meaning behind that name?” she asked. “I have never heard of that name before.”_

_“Means the sea,” Adrian spat. He hated the name._

_“Well, the sea is calm.”_

_“You have clearly not gone deep enough during a storm,” Adrian scoffed._

_Aalitra chuckled at that. Adrian liked the way she laughed. It was graceful. “I believe I haven’t. Names should have meanings. They can be very powerful.”_

_Adrian rolled his eyes despite himself. “You ran away from home?”_

_She nodded and sighed. “It is a tale as old as time. My family wants me to marry someone I do not love.”_

_“Is there someone you love?” Adrian was not sure why he was even asking these questions. He supposed he had gone so long without having someone to talk to. He never really had anyone to talk to. Not like this. Not as the night aged and the winds fell quiet._

_“No,” she said. “But there is nothing worse than marrying someone you do not love.”_

_Adrian narrowed his eyes at her. “I can think of a few things.”_

_He rose from the ground and laved his hands clean._

_She handed him a side of her kirtle to dry his hands. Adrian stared at her for a moment before he took hold of the kirtle and wiped his hands. She smiled, pleased._

_“Please, do not leave again,” she said as Adrian strutted past her. “I will go if… you are not comfortable with my being here.”_

_Adrian clenched his jaw, rubbing the back of his stiff neck. “You… You can… sleep on the pallet. I’ll… sleep on the floor.”_

_She bowed her head. “Thank you.”_

_She did not leave the next morning, and Adrian did not ask her to when he roused at dawn to find her cooking something that smelled wonderful in the kettle. She had also tidied up the place, put everything where it should be. And she had mended the tears in Adrian’s cloak and the sole of his boots._

_Later, they went hunting together. She said that she was good with a bow. Adrian told her that perhaps he would make her one just to see how good she was._

_“Where did you learn how to fish?” asked Adrian as she took the fishnet from him when they reached the river._

_“My father was a hunter,” she said. “I’d go along with him when I was a child.”_

_Adrian taught her a few more tricks to catch river fish. It was all in the bait._

_It was not until the following night when they slept together. Adrian had been with plenty of men and women before, but they were sent to him by his father. Whores and strumpets. He used to tell Adrian that a man like him should have countless conquests in battlefield as well as in his bedchamber._

_It was the first time he had lain with someone who had wanted him. Aalitra had made the first move when she asked him to join her on the pallet. Adrian had not been able to hold himself back when she wrapped herself around him then._

_The next morning, he did not feel like asking her to leave. In fact, he wanted her to stay forever._

_He had stared into her eyes, watching the candleflame dance in them as he ran his fingers along her gentle face and neck that night. Holding her waist, he had pulled her closer. She allowed him, her hands steadily undoing the laces of his shirt and trousers._

_He remembered leaning in and kissing her and the rest of the night had been a blur._

_A couple of moons later, he had taken her hand in marriage. She said that she wanted it. For someone who had never even dreamed that one day he would be married, it all took Adrian by surprise. He had thought that luck was playing on his side._

_That was what he had thought._

* * *

It was an abyss. But there was a doorway. A doorway that was buried deep in the darkness and nothingness. Traversing the abyss was taxing in more than one way. But Jongin had to find the doorway.

It had been so many years since he had used these powers. He was no longer familiar with them or the path. He got lost in the dark of the abyss every night he tried to find the doorway.

He dropped to all fours, panting and gasping. Even the ground beneath him was pitch black. Just as everything around him. It was as though walking through a tunnel without a single drop of light. His magic was useless in this dimension. He was in an astral dimension, where his witchcrafts were rendered powerless. But he still had some other powers to rely on. When he renounced his godship, his father had stripped him off his powers, rendering him vulnerable against other gods of this realm. His powers and magic were even ineffective and impotent in a god’s territory, too. That way, he could never be an inconvenience for the other gods. It was why he had been unable to do anything when Ialdir had attacked.

He picked himself up again and pressed on. He did not have much time. It would not be long before the others would wake up at sunup.

“Please,” he called out, voice breaking. “Help me.”

He had no right to call out for help. He had, after all, turned his back on everyone and walked away from his destiny. The destiny that everyone had wanted for him.

“I must see you,” he croaked out as he dragged his feet forward. The last time he had wandered this far into the abyss, he had lost all sense of the conscious world that he had let a bunch of goblins poison and kidnap him.

He was not sure what they had done to him while he was insensate, but he knew it could not have been anything good. Especially since he had woken up without his clothes on. He wondered where they could have touched him. He tried not to think too much about it. Goblins were mindless little numpties, who loved making mischief for everyone.

He hoped that that nothing horrible would happen to him this time around. He did not want to wake up naked in Adrian’s presence once again. There was nothing more mortifying than that.

Well, under a different, more favourable circumstance, perhaps he would not mind it.

He was not going to find the doorway. He sighed, stopped and contemplated turning back. That was when an archway made of light took form before him. He staggered a step back and gawked at the archway.

He must have been heard.

Without wasting another second, he rushed through the doorway. When he came out on the other side, the brightness nearly blinded him for a moment.

He squinted and flinched as his eyes slowly adjusted to the light. After so many years, he was back here, in the courtyard of a palace he had once called his home.

“You have some grit crawling back here,” he heard a familiar voice, one that he had not heard in nearly a century, say. He turned around and found the man, bearded, armoured and broad-shouldered approaching him with steady strides.

Jongin felt his heart skip a nervous beat as his stomach turned to knots. He bowed his head and said, “Father.”

The man halted in his tracks, hands at his back, chin held high, jaw locked, eyes piercing into Jongin. “You had forsaken the privilege of calling me that a long time ago. You are nothing but a disappointment to me. My shame.”

Jongin’s eyes burned with fresh tears. He tried to keep his head low to hide those tears. His insides felt as though they were set on fire, too.

“Look at you!” his father bellowed in rage. “Reduced to nothing but a pathetic wood witch that practises little children’s tricks.”

Jongin had known that if he tried to reach out to his father, he would have to stand through an earful. But still, he had to do everything he could to help the boy. Kylan needed him. Jongin had to set aside his pride and beg his father for his help.

He forced himself to raise his head and meet his father’s wrathful gaze. “Aeyr must return the boy,” he said with a tremor in his voice. “Please, Father. You mustn’t do this. He is only a child.”

His father’s scowl hardened. “This is the fate of the realm. You have long abandoned your calling. You do not get to ask for favours.”

“But you do not know his father!” Jongin rasped. “He will rain hellfire down on every last one of you. He will bring all the wrath in his arsenal if you take his child from him. You must return Kylan to him before it is too late.”

“I know who he is,” said his father with a derisive scoff. “I know what he is capable of. You are quite naïve to think that I would not know the outlander who came to our realm with such… great promises.”

Jongin gawked at his father speechlessly.

“Jongin,” said the man. “We have waited far too long for this. We will raise the child to fulfil the prophecy. He will be the undoing of this realm. In order to rebuild, we must first destroy. We will. And the new realm will worship us. The blame, however, will be placed on the foreign god and his son.”

He turned around to walk away.

“Father,” Jongin cried out. “Please. This is also the realm that you had built. How could you just… kill it?”

“They do not care for us, Jongin,” spat his father. “We are gods! These fools have seemed to forget that. We must remind them.”

Jongin sucked in a breath. “You are wrong to think that you can get away with this. Adrian will stop at nothing for his son.”

His father laughed. “He could not even stop Ialdir,” he snorted. “I do not have high hopes for this man. He is clearly no longer in his prime.”

“He might not be as strong as he used to be,” said Jongin. “But his love for his son will triumph, Father. I have seen it within him. Something tells me that… we have yet to see what he is truly capable of.”

Glaring, the other man closed the distance between them and struck Jongin across his face with the back of his hand. “You have renounced your godship. Now, you will stay out of our way or you will be killed along with the outlander, too.”

Jongin held a side of his face and panted, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Aalitra,” he let out. “How did she… find him?”

His father’s face turned sour at the mention of her name. “Aeyr sent her to find the god who had landed in our realm. His powers had been so pronounced that even we felt it.”

It was the truth. Nearly a decade ago, Jongin had felt the immense alien power that roll over the realm one day, too. He remembered it now. He remembered going to the Gateway to find out what had caused it. All that he had found was a broken Gateway. Whatever that had entered the realm had broken the Gateway on its way. He only figured out what it was after meeting Adrian.

“She was supposed to locate him and bring him to us. But she chose to lay with him and bear him a son instead. She promised to bring the child she had begotten back to Aeyr.”

“No,” Jongin exhaled, a lump choking his throat. “She’s dead.”

“I know,” said the man, frowning for once. “The outlander had murdered her.”

“Why?”

“I do not know that,” his father spat. “But she did some good before she died. She gave birth to the monster as she had promised.”

“He isn’t a monster,” Jongin growled. “He is just a boy!”

“Not as long as he has Aeyr’s blood running through his veins.” He stopped to muster Jongin from top to toe. Then he shook his head in disapproval. “His children have made him proud. They have striven to realize their father’s vision. But _you_ , my son, a son of Thyldir, bring me nothing but shame. Leave. You will receive no help from me.”

Jongin’s eyes flung open to the moon and the stars speckling the black canvas of night. He sat up with a jolt, gasping and crying.

Qinto jumped with a start and blinked at him in shock.

Burying his face in his hands, Jongin sobbed silently as his father’s words continued to ring in his ears.

Qinto rose to his hindlegs and squealed softly, his front paws pressed against Jongin’s leg.

Jongin wiped the tears from his cheeks with the sleeves of his shirt and drew a few deep breaths. He could not give up now. If his father, the great Thyldir, would not help or listen to him, he would have to get through to Aeyr. He had to try.

He turned around, startled, when he heard a rustling noise from where Adrian was sleeping at. The man was gnashing his teeth loudly in his sleep, groaning and stirring.

Jongin sniffled and rose to his knees to get a better look. Adrian was scowling, eyes and jaw clenched tightly. He was dreaming. And it was a bad dream.

Jongin quietly crawled over to the man and laid a hand on his chest. It did not wake Adrian. He continued to growl in his sleep, hands clawing at the dirt in the ground.

“Adrian?” Jongin whispered, splaying the hand on the man’s chest. “Wake up.”

That was when Adrian’s eyes flew open, and his hands clamped around Jongin’s wrist and neck respectively. Jongin gasped as Adrian slammed him against the ground and mounted him, huffing and puffing, eyes flaring with fire.

Jongin panted with him, his hand still pressed against Adrian’s heaving chest. “Adrian,” he whimpered out, wincing at the way Adrian had his wrist pinned to the ground.

It took Adrian a few moments to realize that he was no longer dreaming, and that it was Jongin who had roused him. As soon as the fires in his eyes died, he released Jongin and scrambled off of him.

Jongin sat up with him and rubbed his wrist. “You were… dreaming,” he muttered.

Adrian was still recovering from his trance as he fought for breath, staring at the trees. “I’m… sorry,” he let out eventually.

Everything about Adrian pained Jongin. Every single one of his touches hurt. Even when Adrian was not doing it consciously. His hands, his gaze, his lips, his skin, his words, his silence. Jongin had gotten bruised and scorched by them all. He was not sure that Adrian knew just how much the man hurt him. Both knowingly and unknowingly.

Jongin had asked for none of this. He lived peacefully in his little hovel in the Red Woods with all of his pet animals. Of course, he still felt lonely because no human would ever want to be his friend. Nonetheless, he had never expected to, after all these years, to go on such an adventure.

And to fall in love for the first time.

He did not know if his heart had chosen the wrong man to fall in love with. No matter how hard he tried to not to listen to it, he failed. And his heart hurt the most.

With each day, a new revelation sank his hopes even deeper.

Adrian repulsed the very existence of gods. And he had every reason to. He had proven decidedly that he would never trust Jongin, especially with his secrets. He would always keep Jongin at arm’s length and would never let him see what lay beneath.

He had been Aalitra’s husband. They had borne a child together. How would Adrian react if he knew that Jongin was his wife’s cousin? Of course, he would not have to because he would kill Jongin with his bare hands the very instant he discovered the fact that Jongin was a god by birth.

Adrian was not the only one with secrets. Jongin knew that if he divulged his own secrets, Adrian would not forgive him.

For all these reasons, Jongin had to stay away from him. He could not let himself fall any deeper than he already had.

He had feared that if he continued on this journey, Adrian would uncover the truth about him eventually. It was why Jongin had decided not to go along with him any further on this journey. How would it feel to be killed by the man one was in love with?

Jongin supposed he would find out soon enough.

“Are you… all right?” Adrian asked at length, looking at him.

Jongin nodded, though his mind was not in the best shape right now. He was overwhelmed. An insistent sob kept swelling in his throat, making it difficult for him to keep a level head.

“Were you crying?” asked Adrian.

Jongin blinked at him in shock. “Wh-What?”

“Your eyes are… red and swollen,” he pointed out.

Jongin tiredly rubbed at them on the back of his hand and shook his head. “I just woke up,” he muttered. “That’s probably why.”

Adrian bought it. Or perhaps he was too preoccupied with his own troubling dreams. He scratched his beard and sighed. “Do you want to take a walk?”

Jongin could not respond for a long moment. But he eventually did with a soft nod of his head. Standing up, Adrian held a hand down to him. Jongin hesitated to take it, his blood pulsing in his ears.

Noticing Jongin’s reluctance, Adrian balled the hand into a fist and withdrew it. Jongin pushed himself up and dusted the dirt off his trousers before he followed Adrian toward the trees.

They did not say anything to each other for minutes as they wandered into the woods, both lost in their own train of thoughts. Jongin could not stop brooding over what his father had told him. Especially about Aalitra.

Did she really go looking for Adrian all those years back? Did she search for him, doing her father, Aeyr’s bidding? What could have happened so soon after Kylan’s birth that impelled Adrian to murdering her?

Adrian came to a halt and leaned against a tree, letting out a few heavy breaths. Jongin held his hands together at the front and kept his gaze on the ground.

“Did I… hurt you?” asked Adrian, breaking the silence between them at last.

Jongin rubbed his wrist once more and shook his head. “No,” he answered.

Pulling away from the tree, Adrian took hold of Jongin’s hand, much to Jongin’s surprise, and inspected the wrist. He frowned and sighed. “It’s bruising.”

Jongin drew his hand back and held it to his chest. “I can heal it.”

“Why don’t you, then?”

That was a good question, Jongin thought. He glanced away, chewing on his lower lip. He sometimes enjoyed the tingling sensation Adrian’s grips left on him. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.

“I’m just a little tired,” he murmured.

Adrian stared at him. Even in the subtle dark of the woods, his eyes were so brilliant that Jongin was embarrassed to look directly at them. “You _do_ look tired. Weren’t you just sleeping, though?”

Jongin bit on the inside of his cheek. “I had bad dreams, too.” It was not exactly a lie. Even though it had not exactly been a _dream_.

Adrian rubbed his bearded jaw and started walking again. Jongin slowly followed after him. “Can I ask you something?” Jongin said a while later.

Adrian did not respond immediately. He let out a gruff, “Hmm,” eventually, though.

“Do you still… detest me?”

Adrian stopped and turned around to face Jongin. “I never detested you,” he said.

Jongin smiled and let out a breathy chuckle. “Yes, you did. You hate witches.” And he also hated gods. Jongin was everything Adrian stood against. And yet, he longed for the man’s affection.

What was this hold that Adrian had on him?

Adrian scratched the back of his head. It seemed so boyish. Jongin had never seen him act so awkward before. “It is true,” Adrian said. “I do not trust witches. But you… have given me reasons to trust you.”

Oh… Why did Jongin ever ask that question? His chest tightened with ache when he thought about the fact that Adrian did not have any reason to trust him. If he knew the truth about Jongin, he would feel betrayed. And Jongin had seen a glimpse of Adrian’s rage.

Perhaps it would be a good way to go out. To have his heart ripped out by the hands of the man he had fallen in love with before the end of the days.

“You care for my son,” Adrian added. “You are… going out of your way to help us. I have not always been the best judge of character, but I do… not detest you… Jongin.”

Every time he heard Adrian say his name, Jongin felt a little more alive. There was something powerful and honest in the way the man said the name. Like he meant it. Like he wanted to convey something meaningful by it.

“Is that… all?” Jongin asked.

He was not sure what he was trying to get out of Adrian. But the night was cold and quiet. Only the stars and the moon were watching them now. The forest was asleep.

Jongin knew that Adrian would never admit to any feelings. Feelings that were so apparent in his eyes. Adrian feared them. Jongin could see that. It was why he kept telling Jongin to ignore those feelings, too.

But they both knew that there was something brewing in their hearts. Adrian was better at hiding it, though. Or perhaps he just had other commitments to keep him distracted.

When had it begun? Jongin did not know. He had never expected himself to fall for a man who was the polar opposite of him. Adrian did not make it easy for anyone to love him. In fact, he deliberately made it difficult and impossible. He pushed everyone away, even his own son. Even so, Jongin had fallen. Pitifully.

Jongin wondered how much Aalitra could have loved Adrian, and what he was most curious about was if Adrian had loved her back.

He had to stay away from Adrian. He had to. But he had been alone for so long that he could not save himself from the dangerous fate ahead. Perhaps death would not be such a terrible thing if he could relish a few brief moments with the man he loved.

He closed the distance between them when Adrian did not answer his question. Though Adrian stood his ground, he tensed up, looking as though he wanted to back away right this instant. But he did not.

Jongin raised a hand to Adrian’s chest and slowly walked it down to the man’s abdomen. “So, you do not detest me,” Jongin whispered. “Is that all?” he asked again.

Adrian clenched his jaw. “Jongin,” he let out. “You are making things… very hard for me.”

Jongin could tell. Adrian’s hands were fisted tightly at his sides, as though he were refraining them from reaching up to touch Jongin. No matter what, Adrian was still a man, after all. Underneath all those walls and hard shells, there was a man whose determination could waver under the right circumstances. All men broke the same.

Jongin had to pull away before it was too late. Before he could do anything that he would come to regret. He remembered the night at Zaris when he had first felt Adrian’s lips upon his own. They had burned him. Literally.

Adrian’s god form was made of the very fires of hell. His touch burned. His eyes flared with flames. Jongin wondered if Adrian reassumed his godship completely, would he burn all that surrounded him to nothing but ashes?

Did Adrian think anything of their lips touching? Of course, it was not a kiss. Not essentially. But… Jongin could not help himself.

It was the first time he had felt a man’s mouth against his own. And he had been unable to get it out of his mind. It had scorched him, yes. It had been painful. But he would do it again in a heartbeat if he could. Perhaps this time, he would not pull away so hurriedly. It had taken him by surprise the last time. The heat of Adrian’s lips.

His fingers idly fiddled with the laces of Adrian’s shirt. “You say that you have reasons to trust me,” Jongin murmured, craning his head up to meet Adrian’s eyes. “But you do not trust me enough to tell me about your past?”

Adrian’s brows furrowed into a frown as his eyes bored into Jongin’s. It was not a fair request, Jongin was aware of that. Especially since he did not trust Adrian with his own secrets. He was betraying Adrian. He had tried to stay away, but here he was, gazing into Adrian’s eyes, asking for the man’s trust while he was the greater traitor between them two.

He tried to swallow the sob that climbed up his throat.

“Why must you know?” Adrian asked. “It will change nothing.”

What he meant to say was that no matter what, they did not have a chance or a future together.

“I do not care if you think me to be a villain,” Adrian said.

“I know that you are not,” Jongin breathed out. “I am not trying to convince myself that you are a good man. Even if you are not, I do not care. This is how I feel. But I want to know the truth about you. About… Aalitra.”

Adrian pulled away from him then, gritting his teeth. “I told you,” he spat. “I do not owe you any truth.”

“Because I do not mean anything to you,” Jongin said. Adrian’s expression hardened. “I see. I am acting like a fool. A fool who can’t take a hint.”

He turned around to walk away when Adrian caught his arm and stopped him. “Jongin…”

“No, don’t.” Jongin slowly pulled his arm free from Adrian’s grip and walked away.

* * *

# Quest Three

**Songs from the Lake.**

What if he gave in? In the midst of this impending catastrophe, what if he brought his walls down and give the witch what he was longing for? It would make everything worse. Adrian did not see how giving in to his desperation would improve his situation for the better. Not to mention that he would be promising the witch something he was not sure he could even give.

The truth that Jongin was demanding was one of the many truths that Adrian wished to keep from him. If he honestly believed that Jongin did not mean anything to him, why was he trying so hard to keep his secrets and feelings locked in? The question kept nagging at him as they rode on.

They encountered a few more Dreygurs and hags along the way, which Adrian promptly took care of.

After nearly a week on the road, the mountains finally came into view, partially hiding behind a thick blanket of fog and mist.

“Do you smell that?” Rakar asked at one point. “Smells like freshwater.”

“There is a lake nearby,” Jongin said. “Perhaps we should stop here to rest.”

His teeth were almost chattering when he spoke. He was shivering a little behind Rakar on the horse.

The sun was already setting, making way for a cold night. The closer they got to the mountains, the colder the winds were. Adrian hoped to reach the foot of the mountains within the next couple of days.

They emerged out of the trees to the view of a vast expanse of freshwater the mountains were overlooking. The steady surface of the lake mirrored the stars that were rapidly appearing in the evening sky.

“We should pitch the tents,” said Rakar. “And have a fire going. Wolves lurk around this part of the woods.”

Dismounting the horses and hitching them to the close by trees, they quickly put the tents up. As the darkness soon befell the land, Adrian settled outside of one of the tents and built a small fire. The baby fox quickly hurried over to him as soon as he saw the flickering flames and cosied up next to the fire for warmth.

Rakar and Jongin, on the other hand, were busy at the artificer’s workbench, looming over the Godsbane while the witch’s tiny ball of light circled them. Every once in a while, Jongin would raise his head and glimpse Adrian briefly before he would quickly drop his attention back to the workbench. Adrian caught every single one of those glimpses because he had not been able to take his eyes off the witch.

He eventually did, though, to glare at the fox that was trying to get onto his lap. “No,” he told the little fox decidedly.

Though the fox backed away, it pinned him with a dismayed look and curled up by the fire.

Adrian turned his head around and glanced at the trees when he thought he heard a voice. A honeyed, mellifluous song that roved through the woods, drifting past the trees. It immediately disappeared, however.

“Did you hear that?” he asked the other two, who looked up at him with a similar confused expression etched on their faces.

“Hear what?” asked Rakar.

Adrian frowned, glancing back at the trees toward the lake. He must have been hearing things that were not there. He rubbed his forehead. “Nothing.”

He looked down at his palm. He could not see the rune. Sighing, he withdrew the waterskin from his knapsack and took a few gulps. He then forlornly looked at his son’s knapsack for a long moment before fishing out Kylan’s wooden figurine. He held it in his hand, staring at it vacantly. Since the day Kylan was born, Adrian had never left his side, and Kylan had never left his. To have gone so many days without his son felt ominously strange and horrifyingly desolate.

Kylan believed that his mother had left him this toy. Adrian let him believe that because he did not have many reasons to want to break the boy’s heart. He grew up without the love of a mother, and in his view, also without the love of a father. The toy offered him some sort of comfort. So, Adrian said yes when Kylan had asked him if the figurine was a gift from his mother.

* * *

_“What are you doing?” Aalitra questioned when she stepped out of the house and found Adrian perched on a tree stump, fiddling with a carving knife and a piece of wood._

_Adrian looked up at her and her swollen belly. “I am… making something,” he said._

_She placed a hand on his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” she asked._

_Adrian felt ridiculous and embarrassed. He sighed. “It is a toy. For the child.”_

_Aalitra blinked and cocked her head to a side. “That looks like a warrior.”_

_“It is,” said Adrian._

_“What if we have a daughter?” she asked, chuckling._

_“In my realm,” Adrian said, dropping his gaze back to the unfinished carving. “daughters went to war, too.”_

_Aalitra pressed her lips into a thin smile. “Do you want her or him to be a warrior?”_

_“At heart and in spirit,” said Adrian. “But I will never let them see or participate in the horrors of war for as long as I live.”_

_Aalitra’s face paled at that. She was silent for a moment as she glanced at the snow that was blanketing the ground. Adrian looked at her belly again. It would not take long before she would have to give birth. Perhaps a week or less._

_“You will make a great father,” she said, though her eyes were overwrought with something like trepidation._

_Adrian was not so sure about how good of a father he would be. But he would try to be better than his own father. It was the only way to end the vicious cycle._

_“Perhaps a girl would prefer a ragdoll rather than a warrior,” said Aalitra._

_“She can have both,” said Adrian, frowning at the half-done toy in his hands. “A boy or a girl, they can be whatever they want to be.”_

_“But we do not know what fate has in store for them,” said Aalitra, eyebrows furrowed deep. “We do not know what is written in their stars. I believe that… it is our duty to nudge them on the path of their destiny.”_

_Adrian rose from his seat and took his wife’s hand. “I am a man who refused his own death many times. I turned away from my fate. I abandoned my calling.” He then cupped a side of Aalitra’s face. “But I do believe that we make our own destiny.”_

_Aalitra did not seem comforted by that. But she nodded her head and leaned her head against Adrian’s chest._

* * *

Something awoke Adrian in the middle of the night. A voice. A song. He cracked his eyes open to the roof of the tent he was reclined in. Sitting up, he slid out of the tent and glanced over to the tent where Rakar, Jongin and the fox were fast asleep under.

He turned his head around with a start when he heard the song again. It was clearer than before. And it was not just a single voice.

It sounded like a chorus of women, singing in a mellow harmony. The song was coming from the lake, Adrian realized. Pushing himself up to his feet, he gazed in the direction of the lake, his eyelids falling heavy to the sound of the enchanting melody. It almost sounded like a lullaby.

He started walking toward it. Part of him realized that his feet were moving on their own. But he was unable to stop himself. He was both curious about who were singing and captivated by the song. His felt a little lightheaded, too. Soon, he could not even feel his feet on the ground. It was as though he were floating in air.

He heard a squeak all of a sudden. The fox was following him with its springy steps. It squeaked and screeched a few times before it bit into a leg of Adrian’s pants, yanking him back to stop him. Adrian kept going. Huffing nervously, the fox turned around and sprinted back toward the tents.

He soon arrived at the shore of the lake. The moon and the stars that were dancing on the ripples of the lake’s surface had him entranced for a moment.

And then he heard the song again. He slowly glanced over to the protrusions of light in the water that were causing the ripples. He squinted at them as they shone as bright as stars. It took him a moment to realize that they were not just light. He discerned the illumining women in the water, glowing white and bright. He would have blinked his eyes if he could. But he was unmoving, held spellbound by their gleaming beauty. There were four of them, floating in the lake, singing and beckoning him to come forth.

Before Adrian could even fathom what was happening, he found himself advancing toward the lake and the glowing women, encaptivated by their voices and their ethereal beauty.

He was unable to consciously measure the depth of the danger he was drawing near as he climbed into the lake and swam towards the women.

* * *

He was back in the abyss. This time, he was not looking for his father, Thyldir. Instead, he was on the path to reach Aeyr. It was perilous, of course. Although Aeyr could not kill him in the astral world, he could still hurt Jongin.

Before he fell asleep, he told Rakar that the battleaxe he was working on was turning out great. He had infused it with the magic Rakar wanted. But it would not be enough to bring down a titan, which Aeyr was. However, it also depended on its wielder. In the hand of a great warrior, the battleaxe could become a weapon of mass destruction. Any weapon could. Even a blunt butter knife.

When they decided to retire for the night, Rakar had inquired Jongin of his wellbeing. He had asked if Jongin were all right and said that he had noticed the little stolen glances he had been tossing in Adrian’s way all night.

Jongin had not said much to Rakar about his feelings for Adrian. But his friend could see through him all too well. It was one of Rakar’s countless talents. He had always been able to read people and their inner conflicts.

“He does not seem like a man who could afford… what you are expecting from him,” Rakar had told Jongin as they settled under the tent.

Jongin swallowed hard. “I know,” he muttered. “I’m not sure I can either.” But was it so terrible that he wanted to belong with someone? To have a family? To love someone? To care for him? To care for his child?

But he knew that there was no future for them. Not when Adrian found out the truth about him.

“So, why are you letting yourself hope?” Rakar had asked, and it was a solid question.

Jongin had closed his eyes and drawn a deep breath. “I have never felt this way before,” he said. “I do not know how to stop myself.”

“I understand that,” said Rakar. “I have also been in love. You know that it is true and real if you cannot do anything about it.”

Jongin proceeded down the abyss, hoping to stumble upon the doorway to Aeyr.

“Aeyr!” he cried out for the nth time. “You will not turn me away, you horrid monster! Face me!”

He dropped to his knees when he felt too drained to move any further. He had no option but to turn around for now.

He woke up to Qinto hopping repeatedly on his chest, trying to shake him awake. He grabbed the fox, gasping, before he sat up. “Qinto,” he let out as the fox sprung out of his hands and darted toward the mouth of the tent.

Jongin immediately detected the panic. He scrambled out of the tent and glanced to the tent under which Adrian was sleeping. He was missing. Jongin glanced to Qinto again as the fox started racing toward the lake as fast as its tiny legs could carry him.

“Adrian,” Jongin rasped and hurried after his pet fox. Shoving past the branches of the trees in the way, he found himself approaching the lake.

He jerked to an abrupt halt when he spied Adrian, climbing deeper into the lake water. “Adrian!” he called out, but he was not heard.

He then glanced to the hideous creatures that were closing in on Adrian. They resembled water hags, though they appeared to be younger. They bared their nasty fangs, swimming toward Adrian.

Spellsingers. They were sirens of the lake. 

But Jongin could not hear them. He wondered if Rakar had heard them, but Spellsingers rarely preyed on non-magical mortals, which Jongin was not but Rakar was.

That was when Jongin looked down at the talisman hanging around his neck. The talisman the witch had given Adrian. It was protecting him from the death-dealing Spellsingers.

It was why he could see the Spellsingers true form and could not hear their bewitching songs.

Qinto squeaked, skipping about in a fluster, like a cat on hot bricks, urging Jongin to save Adrian.

“Adrian!” Jongin screamed, running toward the lake.

Adrian could not hear him through the singing sirens. Jongin did not hesitate for a second as he dove into the water and started swimming toward Adrian and the Spellsingers.

The sirens turned to him when they saw him approaching. Hissing alarmingly at him, they started for him, beating against the water. Jongin conjured a spell and directed it at the Spellsingers, stopping them at their pace. He then hurriedly spelled the water to form small whirlpools around the sirens, capturing them in their current.

One of them escaped, however, and stretched out an arm toward Adrian. It clawed the man at his chest, leaving a gnarly wound behind. Adrian did not even seem to notice it as he reached out for the siren and put his arms around it.

Jongin groaned. He was not wrong when he deduced that Adrian was a man, after all.

He spelled the water once more, catching the siren in an eddy. He then quickly swam over to Adrian, who looked like he was half-asleep, beguiled and lovesick.

“Adrian!” Jongin cried, grabbing hold of Adrian’s arm before he could start drifting toward one of the Spellsingers. “Snap out of it! They are sirens!”

Adrian was not listening. His gaze was still fixated on the demonic creatures. Jongin took hold of the man’s shoulders and desperately looked into his eyes.

“Okay, let me try something,” he huffed out, panting, and splayed a hand on Adrian’s chest. Perhaps he could spell the man to wake up.

But then Adrian caught hold of the sides of his face and bowed his head. Jongin blinked and flinched, but before he could pull away, Adrian kissed him.

He froze as Adrian’s lips pressed tightly against his, stealing all of his breaths away. Retrieving one of his hands from Jongin’s burning face, he hooked an arm around Jongin’s waist underwater, pulling him close against his own body.

Jongin instantly went limp in Adrian’s arms, hands skidding down Adrian’s chest and abdomen before fisting around his wet shirt. He clenched his eyes tightly, shivering every time Adrian’s beard scraped his cheeks.

Adrian broke the kiss briefly to tilt his head to the other side before he kissed Jongin harder. He took Jongin’s lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it tenderly. Though Jongin had gone completely immobile, it felt as though his entire body had been set ablaze, and it had nothing to do with how hot Adrian was.

He did not know how to kiss, he realized, because he was not kissing Adrian back. He had lived for over a century, and he had never been kissed before. No one had ever wanted to kiss him before.

The gods thought him to be weak and pathetic. The mortals despised and feared him for being a witch. At one point, he had convinced himself that he would never kiss anyone.

But here he was, being kissed and held in ways he never thought he would be. He softly gasped in a shaky breath against Adrian’s lips, walking a hand up Adrian’s chest to curl it around the back of the man’s strong, bullneck.

Under the water, Jongin felt Adrian’s rough hand slide along the small of his back. He shuddered and gently arched into Adrian’s body.

He soon realized that Adrian was not in his right mind. In fact, he was bewitched by the Spellsingers’ songs. He was kissing Jongin unconsciously.

Jongin pulled back abruptly, hands shoving Adrian back by the chest. When Adrian would not release him, his hand flew up to strike the man across his face.

Adrian withdrew his arms from Jongin’s waist then and blinked his eyes a few times. Jongin lifted his hands to spell the man to snap out of the sirens’ trance.

Adrian coughed and shook his head, eyes clenched for a moment. “What the…” he let out, opening his eyes again to look around him with confusion painting his expression.

The Spellsingers hissed at Jongin once more before they disappeared underwater and swam away.

Jongin took a few heavy breaths, trying to collect himself. Adrian looked at him then. “What happened?” he asked.

Jongin stared at him in disbelief, his heart sinking. “Sirens,” he said, still panting.

“What?”

“They must be the numen of the lake,” said Jongin, although he was not sure that Adrian could understand him. He did not try to explain himself. He was still too overwhelmed from the kiss that should not have happened.

He blinked away the tears that were welling up in his eyes and tried to stop himself from licking his lips to see if they tasted like Adrian.

“Sirens,” said Adrian, scowling. “How did I… end up here?”

“You were bewitched by their songs,” Jongin muttered, still struggling to breathe. Everywhere that Adrian touched him was tingling. “I… saved you.”

Adrian grimaced at him. “I was not bewitched,” he spat. “And I most certainly did not need you to _save_ me.”

With that, he turned and started toward the shore while Jongin gawked at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?” he rasped.

Adrian stopped and looked back at him. “What?”

“I just saved you,” Jongin said through his teeth. Not only had he just saved Adrian, he had also let the man steal his first kiss, only to be insulted so ungratefully like this. “You can’t think to thank me?”

“I would have been just fine on my own,” Adrian snarled at him.

That raised Jongin’s hackles. “If you are sure that you would be _fine_ without me, then why did you ask for my help?!”

“That is a different matter,” said Adrian, scowling hard. “Why are you so mad, anyway? Need I remind you that I have battled gods. Sirens are nothing compared to that.”

“They would have drowned you if I hadn’t been here,” Jongin argued. “You were under their spell!”

“Like I said,” Adrian growled. “I did not need you to save me. I would have managed.”

Jongin stared at him for a moment, dumbstruck and stumped. Then balling his hands into fists, he shoved past Adrian, wearing a furious glower on his face.

He was so upset that he could not help the tears that rolled down his cheeks as he hurriedly made his way away from Adrian.

“Jongin,” Adrian called in a gentler tone.

“Shut up,” Jongin snapped and climbed out of the water. He did not spare Adrian another look as he wandered into the trees to find a secluded spot to cry his heart out.

He was not sure if he were more aggrieved by the kiss or the fact that Adrian did not remember it or how the man had just treated him.

* * *

Jongin returned at dawn. Adrian stopped in his tracks to look at the witch, who angrily stomped past him with the fox trotting after him. He was scowling, the corners of his lips quirked in a displeased moue, his cheeks flushed red, his bloodshot eyes refusing to even look at Adrian.

“Whoa,” Rakar exhaled after taking the tents down. “Where were you?”

Jongin did not say anything as he strode over to the horses and helped Qinto climb into the saddlebags before he mounted one of the horses. He grabbed the reins and annoyedly stared ahead at nothing while waiting for Rakar.

The artificer looked over to Adrian with an arched eyebrow. “What happened? Why does he look like someone got on his wick?”

Adrian licked his lips and rubbed the back of his neck. He wondered if Jongin were still fuming about what happened last night. Adrian had not meant to hurt the witch’s pride, but perhaps he had. Perhaps he had disregarded Jongin’s concern for him.

Sighing, he walked over to the witch. “Jongin,” he called.

Jongin did not bother to look down at him.

“I should have thanked you,” Adrian said. “for… helping me last night.”

Jongin’s expression softened a little, but he still refused to look at Adrian. “I did not _help_ you. I saved you. Maybe if you would climb down your high horse every once in a while, you’d see that not everyone is evil or out to get you.”

Adrian exhaled heavily. “So, that’s what this is about,” he muttered. “I know that you are not evil.”

“And you cannot get by in this world believing that you do not need anyone,” Jongin added, huffing and puffing angrily. Adrian frowned at him.

“You are alone,” Adrian pointed out. “You do not need anyone.”

“I am alone,” Jongin spat at him, looking to him at last, pinning him with a ferocious scowl. “But I do need someone. I am not alone by choice!”

“Wow,” Rakar let out from where he was standing.

“But you would not understand,” the witch said, reaching down to shove Adrian back by the shoulder. Adrian caught himself, staggering a step back. “You made it very clear that you do not care. You will never admit that I am more to you than just a witch. So, let’s just go. Let’s save Kylan, and we don’t ever have to see each other again.”

There was something more. Jongin was clearly upset about something else. It was not all about what Adrian had told him last night. That much was clear.

But Adrian did not ask him what was the real reason he was so cross for. He stepped away from the horses, glancing back at Jongin once. The witch sharply turned his face away, his chest heaving.

He had never seen Jongin so teed off. He was not sure how to deal with the situation.

After grabbing the knapsacks, Adrian glanced at Jongin. Then gnashing his teeth, he strode back to the horse Jongin was mounted on.

“What are you—” Jongin gasped when Adrian wrenched the reins out of his grip and climbed onto the horse’s back behind Jongin after tossing the knapsacks into the wagon. Blocking the witch in place with his arms on either side of Jongin, Adrian grabbed hold of the reins in front of the boy. “Adrian!”

“You will ride with me,” Adrian said in a growl.

Rakar stared at them with a cocked head, scratching the back of it. “Well, okay then,” he muttered, mounting the other horse hitched to the wagon.

Jongin tried to elbow Adrian in the ribs and groaned when Adrian seized his arm. “What are you doing?” asked Jongin, frowning as he turned his head halfway around to look at Adrian.

“Just ride with me,” Adrian said in a low, calm voice. “will you?”

The witch stopped then and faced away, though he continued to frown disapprovingly. He lightly leaned back against Adrian’s chest and let Adrian rein the horse.

* * *

Jongin started trembling against Adrian a few hours down the road toward the mountains.

“Here,” Adrian murmured, pressing the reins in Jongin’s hands. “Take these for a moment.”

Jongin straightened up and took hold of the reins. “Why?”

Removing the cloak from his shoulders, he draped it over Jongin’s.

The witch shuddered as Adrian’s hands brushed his neck. “You don’t… have to,” he whispered, and though Adrian could not look at his face, he could tell that Jongin was blushing.

“I am not cold,” Adrian said gruffly, retrieving the reins from the witch’s hands.

“Look at you two,” Rakar commented, riding beside them. “Looking awfully chummy over there.”

Adrian pinned him with a glower. The artificer shrugged and rode ahead. “I did not mean to hurt you last night,” Adrian told Jongin at length. “And I am… starting to see that some people are… genuinely good. Like you.”

Jongin said nothing.

Adrian continued. “I am... sorry that I seemed ungrateful. You have been doing so much for me and Kylan since the moment you met us. And yet, I continue to treat you so heartlessly. You deserve better.”

Jongin tugged the cloak tighter around him, hanging his head. “Maybe I don’t,” he whispered. Adrian’s brows drew together.

“What do you mean?”

The witch fell silent for a length, as though he were lost in his own thoughts. “I am sorry I snapped at you,” he murmured after a while. “I was so… angry.”

“Because of what I said? Or… was it something else?”

He could feel Jongin’s shoulders stiffening against his back. “You… kissed me last night,” he let out in a very quiet and coy whisper. “at the lake… when you were still under the Spellsingers’ enchantment.”

Adrian’s fingers tightened around the reins, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. For moments, he could do nothing. Not even breathe.

“Adrian?” Jongin called, turning his head around a little, though not enough to look back.

Adrian exhaled heavily. Jongin shuddered when Adrian’s breath grazed the nape of his neck. “I apologize,” he muttered, mortified. “I should not have… done that.”

“Oh,” Jongin breathed out and said nothing more as he lowered his head.

Adrian was not sure if he were more disappointed about kissing the witch or the fact that he did not remember it. But he did recall a side of his face hurting the whole night.

“Did you… hit me for that?” he asked Jongin.

The witch fell quiet again.

Adrian did not push him for an answer. If Jongin did slap him across the face for kissing him while he was enthralled by some lake sirens, then Adrian rightfully deserved that slap.

“You have every right to be angry,” Adrian told him, his own stomach knotting up uncomfortably. Of all things, he did not expect it to be this. “It was wrong of me.”

“I wanted you to kiss me,” Jongin said then, silencing Adrian for good. “But I was just upset because it was clear that you did not want to. You would not have done it if you had been yourself.”

That felt like a punch to the gut. “Jongin…”

“Don’t,” the witch muttered. “I do not wish to discuss this any further.”

Though Adrian agreed and was glad to drop the mortifying subject, he could get rid of the storm that was brewing in his chest.

* * *

# Quest Four

**Unwelcoming Wraiths.**

“If you do not mind my asking,” Rakar said when he set himself next to Adrian near the fire. “What sort of a god are you?”

Adrian tore his gaze away from Jongin, who was sitting on a boulder closer to the fire, gently stroking the baby fox’s fur. They had ridden together the whole day, and every time the witch would accidentally fall asleep against his chest, Adrian found himself struggling to fend off the urge to nuzzle into a side of Jongin’s neck to inhale the scent of his skin or bury his nose in the boy’s silky hair.

What had the witch done to him?

He wished that Jongin had not told him about the kiss, which he did not remember. Because it was all that Adrian seemed to think about. Perhaps it was arguably a good distraction from his troubled thoughts about Kylan’s whereabouts and welfare.

“I _was_ a God of War,” said Adrian, poking a stick into the fire. “I’m no longer one.”

“Not in this realm,” said Rakar. “What about in your own? Would you… still be one when you return?”

Adrian frowned. He had no idea what would happen in his own realm if he returned. His half-siblings would want to get even with him for what he did to their father. He could not expect their help to defeat Aeyr and save his son.

There was only one person who would because he was indebted to Adrian. And he could only hope that it would be enough.

“I am not a god anymore,” Adrian mumbled.

“But it isn’t exactly a choice, is it?” said Rakar. Adrian narrowed his eyes on the artificer. “I simply mean, you _are_ still a god. Even if you have renounced your duties. The power of a god still runs through your veins. And your son’s.”

“What is your point?” grumbled Adrian.

“My point is that… instead of denying who you truly are, perhaps you should embrace it. And then try to be a better version of yourself.”

“I do not want to be someone that I hate,” Adrian said, staring into the fire. “I have hated gods my whole life. I was forced to do their bidding from the moment I was born. Everything was taken away from me by gods. Including freewill. I have no reason to be proud for being a god.”

When he raised his head, he found Jongin gawking at him in something akin to horror. The witch quickly looked away, however, face paling and hands trembling around the fox.

Rakar sighed. “I see,” he let out. “But I hope that you understand the consequences of… suppressing your true calling. Like you have suppressed your son’s. And look where that has brought him and you.”

Adrian clenched his fists. Although he saw the artificer’s viewpoint, he could neither afford to _embrace_ who he was nor teach Kylan his old ways. He wanted his son to be better than he was. And in order to do that, he had to hide his true self.

But that had brought him here, nevertheless. In spite of his all his efforts to keep Kylan safe, he had lost the boy. There was no one to blame but himself.

“Well,” Rakar sighed after a while. “The good news is that I am nearly done with your weapon and armour.”

Adrian nodded his head curtly. “Get some rest. We are so close to the mountain foot. We should get moving at first light.”

* * *

The roads disappeared into thick belts of trees as the sun rapidly sank behind them, casting a grim and calamitous darkness over the mountains ahead.

They dismounted when the terrains became too rocky and uneven for them to travel on horses. Adrian craned his head up to muster the mounts of great height before him. He exhaled shakily, taking hold of the horse’s reins, as he started for the stone staircases built around the mountains. They looked sturdy enough, buried under blankets of moss and dirt, though it was clear to see that they were not frequented.

“Wait,” the witch halted him as soon as he started climbing up the stairs. “Something feels eldritch about this place.”

Adrian gazed up the stairs. “Whatever it is,” he said. “we are going up there.”

Jongin frowned, but he did not say anything more as he followed after Adrian and Rakar. Soon, as the evening darkened, Jongin summoned a couple of balls of light to brighten their way. Adrian tightened his grip on the horse when it slipped a few times on the edges of the steps.

The farther they travelled, the stronger the winds blew. Adrian constantly looked back to make sure that Jongin and Rakar were treading on his footsteps.

Rakar caught Jongin several times when the witch stumbled. He tugged at Adrian’s cloak around his trembling shoulders and eventually fell behind.

“Look,” Rakar rasped at one point, jerking his chin toward a shrine. Gold coins were strewn on the ground as offerings. Adrian picked them up and pocketed them. “They’re offerings.”

“So?” Adrian spat.

“You know what? You’re right. It’s not like those bastards care about them, anyway.”

“I’m glad we agree.”

It might take days to reach the pinnacle of the mountain, but Adrian remembered that the Gateway was somewhere along the way, hidden in a cave. When he first used it to come to this realm, it had taken him less than a couple of days to make his way down. He supposed the hike up would take longer.

When he noticed that Jongin was falling behind, he slowed down and fell beside the witch. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Do you need rest?”

Jongin shook his head, though he did not lift it to meet Adrian’s gaze. “I just have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered. “The mountains are brimming with evil energy.”

Adrian glanced down at the rune in his palm and found it flickering faintly. “Could it be trolls?” he asked. “Dreygurs?”

Jongin sighed. “I do not know yet. But it would be wise for us to stay vigilant.”

Adrian always was. Except the other night at the lake with the sirens when he had kissed Jongin. Something that he had not been able to move past for days.

“How did you know the Gateway is untraversable and broken?” Adrian asked, as though to make conversation.

But the question had unnerved Jongin. The witch dropped his gaze and shivered even harder. Adrian considered wrapping an arm around Jongin, but he quickly forwent the idea.

“I… visited the Gateway a while ago,” the witch replied a while later.

“How do you it’s broken then?”

“I just know,” he muttered.

Adrian glanced ahead at Rakar, who had managed to progress a lot farther than them, even with the horse dragging the wagon. Knowing that the artificer was now way out of earshot, Adrian said, “This is it.”

Jongin looked up at him then. “What do—” he cut himself short with a gasp when he slipped on the steps and nearly fell before Adrian’s arm caught his waist and steadied him.

Jongin’s eyes bored into Adrian’s then, his hands holding onto Adrian’s shoulders. Then clearing his throat, he straightened up and pulled the cloak tighter around him. “Sorry,” he whispered and started walking again.

“What I meant was,” Adrian said. “this is it. This is where… it ends for us.”

Jongin gazed over to him with a pained look.

“You have kept your word,” Adrian breathed out. “You have… done so much to help me and Kylan. We are forever… in your debt.”

The witch was silent for a stretch, face paling against the bitter howling wind. Then in a low voice, he said, “Well, I have not fixed the Gateway. So, don’t thank me yet.”

“But you cannot go any farther than this,” said Adrian. It almost sounded like an order. Perhaps it was. Not only did he not want to put Jongin in any more danger, but he also knew that if they continued to be together, it would make it even more difficult for him to refuse Jongin and deny the feelings he had for the witch. “Not with me.”

When Jongin did not respond, Adrian reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around Jongin’s.

The witch flinched with a start upon the touch and pinned Adrian with a surprised look.

“I’m sorry,” Adrian let out. “that there is not much that I can do for you.”

Jongin’s cheeks crimsoned then, and he turned his blushing face away, his cold fingers curling around Adrian’s. “You have softened a little,” he remarked.

Adrian’s brows rose. “What?”

Jongin smiled faintly. “Nothing.”

Adrian pulled his hand back, much to Jongin’s dismay, when the horse whinnied in fright, as though it were spooked by something ahead.

Grabbing its reins with both hands, Adrian tried to hold it down as it rose to hindlegs, braying anxiously. “What is happening?” he rasped when he noticed that Rakar’s horse was just as spooked.

The rune on his hand was glowing blindingly bright now. The balls of light were stamped out all of a sudden as palls of black smoke surrounded them.

Adrian lost his grip on the reins then as the horse jerked back before galloping down the stairs.

“Jongin!” Adrian roared when he found Jongin retreating toward the edge. The witch stopped, though his ashen face was full of horror and fear as he frantically stared at the shadows materializing in the black smoke.

“Wraiths!” he cried in terror. “Moon Wraiths!”

Adrian looked to the shadows then. They were not just shadows. They were evil spectres, floating above the ground, plaguing the mountains.

“Rakar!” Adrian bayed after the artificer, who had managed to get far enough from the wraiths, that were blocking the staircase for Adrian and Jongin. “Go! Find the Gateway!”

Mounting the horse, Rakar wasted no time reining the horse to canter up the stairs.

“Jongin! What are you doing?” He had never seen such fright in the witch’s eyes. Jongin was backing away, chest heaving, mouth panting. He was clearly afraid of these wraiths.

To Adrian, they appeared to be nothing but smoky shadows with a faint resemblance of a human face.

“What do these things do?!” Adrian asked.

Jongin was gaping at the wraiths that were closing in on him, hands gripping the cloak by the chest.

“Jongin!” Adrian growled.

The witch glanced over to him then. “They e-e-eat s-souls,” he stammered out, tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Fantastic,” Adrian grumbled under his breath and approached the wraiths with fisted hands. When he tried to plunge one of them through the wraiths, it went right through them. He gawked at his own fist for a moment. “What in fucking hell…”

“We have t-to g-g-get out of here,” the witch let out, gasping for air as he took a few steps back.

“Watch where you’re—” screamed Adrian, but it was too late. Jongin stumbled and slipped right off the edge. Adrian lunged towards him, darting through the wraiths before he dove off the edge. Enveloping his arms around Jongin, he promptly shifted his weight, so that he was under Jongin.

Jongin raised a hand to spell the trees on the ground they would soon be crashing on, and though the trees extended their branches to catch them, Adrian plummeted right through them, snapping every one of the branches with his back.

Jongin buried his face in Adrian’s chest and screamed for a few moments before Adrian landed on the ground on his back with Jongin on top of him.

For moments neither of them moved while Adrian groaned in agony, wondering if he had broken any bones in his body. He doubted it, though. He had survived worse falls than this.

Jongin squirmed on top of him, still crying and trying to get off of him.

“Stop,” Adrian rasped, grabbing hold of Jongin’s arms, when his back spasmed. “Don’t move.”

The witch went completely still on him, though he was still panting hard.

They had crashed somewhere amid the trees on the mountain foot.

“Rakar,” Adrian grumbled.

“He is alive,” Jongin gasped. “I can feel it.”

Good. Adrian dropped his head back on the ground and lay there idly for a few minutes with Jongin’s weight pinning him down. “Are you all right?” he asked when the pain ebbed.

Jongin did not respond, his wide eyes staring into Adrian’s. “Can I… get up now?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

Adrian exhaled a heavy breath. “Yes,” he said. “But… slowly.”

Jongin planted one hand on the ground beside them and the other on Adrian’s chest to push himself up. Adrian continued to lie there, drawing in deep breaths, as the witch sat up and conjured a small sphere of light.

“Why did you do that?” asked Jongin, frowning as he caught hold of one of Adrian’s arms to help him sit up.

Adrian groaned and grunted, rolling his shoulder. “Would you rather I let you get hurt from the fall?”

Kneeling up behind him, Jongin pressed his hands to his back. “Stay still,” he whispered as he spelled Adrian’s back to heal. As soon as the healing spell started working, Adrian rose to his feet and started for the stairs.

“Wait,” Jongin halted him, grabbing his arm. “They will still be there if we go there now.”

“What do you suggest that we do then?!” Adrian spat through his grit teeth.

Jongin withdrew his hand. “They are Moon Wraiths. They only come out during the night. We have to wait for the sun to come up.”

“They were not there when I was last here.”

“Well, none of the creatures were.”

Adrian huffed exasperatedly and rubbed his temples. “So, we just wait here until dawn?”

Jongin nodded embarrassedly. “We cannot fight them.”

“Not even with your magic?”

“Not even with my magic. Or this… hex’s talisman.” He wrapped a hand around the talisman.

Adrian cursed under his breath and dropped to a seat under a tree. Jongin followed suit and sat down near another tree. The light ball slowly floated around him as he hugged his knees to his chest and sniffled.

“I’m sorry I panicked up there,” he muttered at length, keeping his head hung low.

Adrian said nothing in reply. He did not want to talk to the boy about it and make him uncomfortable.

“I am… terrified of wraiths,” he added. “Spirits. Ghosts. Wights. I’ve always been afraid of them. Since I was a child.” He uncomfortably rubbed an arm with a hand. “I’d hide under my bed, afraid that they might find me. Everyone called me names like big baby or a fraidy-cat. Milksop. I was not supposed to have any fears. I should not be afraid of anything.”

Adrian licked his lips, noticing the embarrassment in the witch’s face. “It’s all right,” he said. “We are all afraid of something.”

Jongin tightened his arms around his legs and rested a side of his face on his knees. “ _You_ are not afraid of anything,” he muttered.

Adrian sat up straight and pinned Jongin with a frown. “That isn’t true,” he said. “I am afraid of… many things. And you know that.”

Jongin lifted his head to meet Adrian’s gaze. “But you are not afraid of silly ghosts. I’d wager that not even Kylan would be afraid of those wraiths.”

Adrian smiled. “The boy isn’t afraid of a lot of things. He is… even braver than I am.”

Jongin’s lips curled into a small smile then. “He is very brave,” he let out. “Which is why he is going to be all right.”

Adrian rubbed his bearded jaw. “I don’t know how he is right now. I don’t know where he is. I have never left his side.”

Loosening his arms around his legs, Jongin lowered his knees and watched Adrian keenly.

“The day he was born,” Adrian said. “I took him in my hands and looked at him. He was… so small. So fragile. I was afraid that… I would break him. But then I looked into his eyes and I promised him that I would never let anything or anyone hurt him. I will always be there for him. He was the only reason I had left to live. I promised him and myself that I would do anything to keep him safe.”

Adrian sucked in a shaky breath, leaning his head back against the tree, eyes clenched.

“I have failed.”

“No, you haven’t,” said Jongin. “You are here, aren’t you? If there is good in your heart, and I know there is, the boy will see it too one day. He is your son. He will come back to you.”

Adrian swallowed hard. What if he didn’t?

“How do you know that there is good in my heart?” he scoffed. “If you knew the things I had done in the past…”

“But you would not tell me,” said Jongin, louring disappointedly. “Why did you… kill Kylan’s mother? You had married Aalitra. You had begotten a son from her. So, why did you… do such a thing?”

Adrian was silent, his throat closing around a lump.

Jongin sighed loudly. “All right,” he murmured. “I have no right to know.”

“You do,” Adrian said. Jongin’s eyes widened a little. Looking down at his blistered palms, Adrian breathed heavily. “I never thought I would ever… come to trust someone again. Especially a witch.”

Something shifted in Jongin’s expression, and his eyes turned limpid.

Adrian took another deep breath and started. “She… Aalitra gave birth on the eighth day of winter. That day, I knew what happiness could be for a man like me. As I held my son in my arms, I… I thought I had won the world. Won a prize like no other. I turned to Aalitra and asked her what she wanted to name him.”

He closed his eyes then.

“She did not say anything. She would not even look at our child. I figured she was fatigued from the childbirth.” Adrian opened his eyes briefly to glance over at Jongin, who was staring at him breathlessly, unblinking.

Adrian clenched his eyes again, head rested against the tree trunk as he recalled the dreadful night, narrating every detail of it, so that Jongin understood that he meant something to Adrian.

After all these years, Adrian realized that he had a reason to trust someone again. He had come to this realm seeking peace, and something about Jongin, his serenity, his kindness, his aplomb, his earthiness delivered Adrian some of that peace he longed for.

Now that their journey together was nearing its end, Adrian figured that he owed the witch the truth he sought after all.

Before they part, he wanted Jongin to know he was not a monster. Not anymore. He now deeply cared about Jongin’s opinion of him.

* * *

_The baby was smaller than Adrian had expected it to be. So small that Adrian was worried of it slipping from his gentle grip. He held his son closer to his chest and carefully surveyed the infant’s red lips and rosy cheeks as the baby stirred lightly in his arms, fast asleep with its eyes clenched._

_His chest felt warm as it bubbled with pride and joy. It was a strange blend of feelings he had never felt before. He was a father now. It both terrified and overjoyed him._

_He would protect the child at all costs, he promised himself and his wife. He would not let anything harm their son._

_He would not let the boy grow up to be anything like himself. The child would be better. He must do better than his father._

_“What shall we name him?” he asked Aalitra, who was reclined on the bed, her eyes emptily staring at the roof of their home. “Aalitra?”_

_She remained silent, though she drew her eyes shut, letting out a heavy breath._

_Frowning, Adrian carefully settled the baby in the cot, the one he had spent months making. It had turned out decent, but he had overestimated the size of the newborn. It was clearly too big for the child._

_He would grow into it, Adrian told himself._

_“How about… Kylan?” Adrian suggested, kneeling at a side of the bed. As he reached out and took hold of his spent wife’s hand, Aalitra continued to ignore him. “Are you all right?”_

_She had spent the entire night with a midwife. Adrian supposed she must be exhausted._

_He released her hand and rose to his feet. “I will hunt us something to eat for tonight. Perhaps a boar.”_

_His wife did not reply immediately, but she eventually did open her eyes and gazed over to Adrian. “A boar… sounds wonderful,” she muttered. “Find us a good one.”_

_Adrian nodded and glanced at their baby once more. A proud smile crept onto his lips._

_“And… we can call him Kylan,” said Aalitra, much to Adrian’s satisfaction. He grabbed his cloak and axe and pulled on his hunting boots before he pressed a kiss to his wife’s forehead._

_“I will be back soon,” he said and wended his way out of the cabin._

_He did manage to find and hunt a boar that day, though it had taken him a whole day. When he returned home as the dark descended over the land, with the dead boar slung over a shoulder, he halted in his tracks at the door, heart pounding in his chest all of a sudden. Something was wrong. The air that surrounded his home was imbued with something sinister and ominous._

_He dropped the boar to the ground and burst into the house. His gaze first darted to the vacant bed where he had left Aalitra. Then he quickly looked to the baby’s cot._

_For a moment, he could not get himself to turn a single hair as his heart stopped beating altogether. His limbs had gone numb, his eyes bulging in disbelief._

_Aalitra looked up at him, her bloodshot eyes aggrieved and apologetic. She was leaning over the cot, hands holding a dagger over the baby’s chest, its tip almost touching the child._

_“I have to do this,” she let out, voice thick with sorrow. Then turning her attention back to the sleeping child, she raised the dagger high, aiming for Kylan’s heart._

_Adrian moved then, in the blink of an eye. He caught Aalitra’s arm and yanked her away from the child, fire coursing through his veins and blazing in his eyes._

_“No!” she screamed as he slammed her head against a wall, hand clamped around her neck. “He must die! Or he will end us all!” She fought him and broke free from his grip before she launched at the child again, brandishing the dagger._

_And that was when Adrian grabbed hold of the back of her head, and with a single effortless move, he twisted her head and snapped her neck before he wrenched the dagger out of her hand and plunged it into her own chest, through her heart._

_As she dropped dead on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood, he fell to his knees and gaped at her, panting and huffing. The horror snaked around Adrian’s throat like the limbs of death._

_Behind him, the baby was wailing._

_Adrian stood himself up and dragged his feet over to the cot before picking his son up into his arms. “I’m here,” he said, tears rolling down his cheeks as he cradled the baby in his arms. “I’m here, Kylan.”_

* * *

When he was done recollecting the horrid events of the day Kylan was born, he cracked his eyes open and turned them toward the witch.

The light from the ball that hovered around Jongin illuminated the streaks of tears on the witch’s cheeks. Adrian cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

He then heaved a sigh. “From the day he was born,” he said, though his throat felt a little parched from all that narration. “he has struggled to live. His own mother… wanted to hurt him as soon as he was born. Then growing up, he was bedridden for most of the days. And now, he is somewhere… far out of my reach. Somehow, it all feels like my fault. I had promised to protect him, but he is constantly getting hurt on my account. When Ialdir took him, Kylan had looked at me with a kind of pain I had never seen before.”

Jongin wiped the tears from his cheeks and sniffled, hanging his head. “I am so sorry,” he let out shakily, voice breaking.

Adrian rubbed his eyes. “I hope he will be able to forgive me one day.”

The witch sniffled once more and wiped his face with the cloak. “Aalitra must have known,” he said at length. Adrian stared at him confusedly. “She must have known that they will come for him. And they will turn him into their monster. It was why… she wanted to kill him.”

Adrian was at a loss for words. His head spun a little as he realized that Jongin was right.

“Aeyr had sent her,” Adrian said as the truth finally dawned on him.

“She must have had a change of heart,” Jongin muttered. “She decided to… save the realm from… its end.”

Adrian was overcome by another hit of harrowing sorrow.

“It does not matter,” he said decidedly a while later. “I would not have let her hurt Kylan. Not even for the sake of the realm.”

They did not say another word to one another for long thereafter as they each drifted off with their own trains of thoughts.

* * *

Neither of them could sleep to bide the time until dawn. The silence between them was suddenly so loud that it unnerved Jongin. He wanted to say something. He wanted to tell Adrian that he was a good man, and that he should not beat himself up for what had happened to Kylan. As he said, all that he had been trying to do since the day his son was born was protect him. He was not only a good man, he was a great father, too.

Jongin had never felt closer to the man than he did that night. However, on the other hand, he was verklempt over the fact that Adrian had shared the truth he had been imploring from the man. But he could not do the same. He was the only one with a terrible secret now. And when Adrian found out, Jongin was not sure what his fate would be.

It would not matter, anyway. Adrian had made it clear that this was the end of the line for them. Once Jongin had helped Rakar fix the Gateway, they would part ways.

They only had the next few days. And tonight.

He had never wanted these things before. He had never had such lewd and lascivious desires that relentlessly haunted him before. As he gazed at Adrian for the nth time in the faint light, he felt his heartbeat quicken, chest tighten, and blood stir in the lower regions of his body. And every time Adrian would catch him looking, he fought the urge to lunge at the man and beg him to take him right then and there.

Insofar, Adrian had never touched him tenderly. While most of Jongin enjoyed the man’s brute force and involuntary aggressiveness, part of him wondered if Adrian were even capable of gentleness. And what would _that_ feel like?

Adrian glimpsed him once more when Jongin was staring at him. His eyebrows furrowed into a puzzled frown, eyes narrowing on Jongin.

Blushing, Jongin turned away.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Adrian inquired eventually.

Jongin wrapped his arms around his legs and shook his head. “I was not looking.”

Adrian’s eyebrows dipped even lower. “Will you stop it,” he growled when Jongin glanced in his way again. “before I…”

Adrian trailed off, rubbing his forehead. Huffing out a heavy breath, he turned his face away from Jongin and stayed in that position thereon.

“Adrian?” Jongin called after a while. Adrian ignored him, however, still facing away.

* * *

He could tell that Jongin was cold. As the night wore on, the winds were even colder. The witch swathed himself in the cloak Adrian had given him, but it did little to keep him warm from the cold that surrounded the mountain area.

There was something about the way Jongin had been looking at him all night that made Adrian uneasy. Perhaps even a little nervous. It was just them, in the middle of the woods, with no one but the trees, the wind, the moonlight and Jongin’s little ball of light to keep them company.

Adrian scratched his bearded cheek and continued to keep his gaze away from the witch.

“Do you want me to build a fire?” he asked.

“No, I do not,” the witch muttered. “Are you… cold?”

“No,” Adrian said. “But you look like you are.”

Jongin fell silent again.

Adrian only turned his head to look at Jongin when he heard the witch climbing onto his feet. Jongin stood still for a moment, a hand raised to the tree he had been leaning on. He was staring idly at Adrian.

With the sphere of light circling him, he started walking towards Adrian then.

Blinking in confusion, Adrian straightened up as the witch approached him, almost looming ominously toward him.

He froze altogether when Jongin dropped to his knees between his legs and crawled closer. “Jongin,” he rasped, unable to back away with his back pinned against the tree. “What you are you—”

“Shh,” the witch hushed him up and shifted until his thighs were straddling Adrian’s, knees planted on either side of Adrian’s legs. He then brought his hands up to Adrian’s shoulders. The ball of light was now floating around them both.

As his breathing rapidly quickened, Adrian gazed up into Jongin’s half-lidded eyes and swallowed hard. “Jongin,” he let out quietly now, hands fisting around the loam on the ground. “Don’t…”

Although his lips urged the witch to stop, the rest of his body and his heart hungered otherwise. He could not look away from Jongin’s yearning eyes. He was unable to pull away from the hands that were curling around the back of his neck or the slender fingers that were slipping into his hair, gripping the strands lightly.

“Adrian,” Jongin breathed out, closing the little distance left between them. Adrian exhaled shakily as the front of their bodies pressed together. “I can’t,” the witch whispered. “I can’t… close my heart to you.”

Adrian’s hands rose to the sides of Jongin’s waist then. The witch shivered against Adrian as the latter gently clutched at his hips. _No, this has to stop_ , Adrian kept chanting in the privacy of his own head. But his hands did nothing to heed the warning.

“I know,” Jongin added in a whisper. “that we cannot… that we do not hold a future together. But I will not regret a single moment of this.”

This. What was _this_?

Adrian had to stop himself before he could go any further and let his walls crumble.

The sweet scent and heat of Jongin’s skin filled his senses. He decided that he would not mind if he even drowned in them in that moment. His large, rough hands could envelop all around Jongin’s svelte waist. He brought them to the small of Jongin’s back and leaned his forehead against the witch’s chest.

He felt Jongin’s thundering heartbeat then. He was certain that his own heart was beating just as hard.

There was something familiar about holding Jongin in his arms.

“We shouldn’t,” Adrian said as Jongin drew a hand along his beard, tracing the jawline with his fingers.

“I know,” the witch exhaled. “But… I want to.”

And so did Adrian.

Retrieving a hand, Jongin waved them at the trees around them. Instantly, the branches slanted toward one another, forming an arching canopy over them. Adrian raised his brows at it and then at Jongin, who was blushing, his scarlet cheeks glinting against the light ball.

Adrian realized that Jongin was creating a safe, private space for them. “Are you… sure,” whispered Adrian, walking his hands up Jongin’s back.

Shuddering, Jongin held on Adrian’s shoulders and closed his eyes, his lower lip curled between his teeth. Adrian could not tear his lusting gaze away from the boy’s mouth.

“I am,” Jongin answered in a breathy whimper. “Nothing we do here… and now will ever leave this place. I promise.” Adrian withdrew one of his hands and brought it to the front to undo the laces of the cloak. As the cloak slid off of Jongin’s shoulders and fell to the ground, Adrian slipped a hand under the Jongin’s shirt. Gasping, Jongin fisted a handful of Adrian’s hair at the back of his head. “Will you… kiss me?”

Adrian swallowed and let out a few heavy breaths through his parted lips, his eyes boring into Jongin’s. “Can I?” he asked, bringing a hand to gently cup a side of the witch’s face.

Jongin let his eyes fall shut as he leaned into Adrian’s touch. “Y-Yes… Please.”

The way Jongin’s breath hitched when Adrian’s hand stroked the small of his back. Adrian knew that he might come to regret this if he went along with it. But the heat of Jongin’s body, the tautness of his skin, the contours of his waist, the gentleness in his fingers got the better of Adrian’s self-control and discipline. Not to mention his own lust for the witch, one which he had been struggling to best for a long time. He had previously believed that he would never give in to such desires. But when the opportunity was presented before him, placed so close to his reach, he was neither able to refuse nor fight his thirst for Jongin.

Grappling an arm around the back of Jongin’s waist, Adrian hoisted him off his lap and shoved him down on the floor of the forest. A guttural moan escaped the witch’s throat as his back hit the ground. Adrian then grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the loam on either side of the witch’s head as their eyes painstakingly pierced into one another.

Jongin ran his tongue along his lips and swallowed, his chest heaving laboriously. Adrian broke their locked gazes and lowered his down to Jongin’s throat. Slowly bowing his head, Adrian brushed a kiss on a side of the witch’s neck. His skin was searing hot against Adrian’s lips.

Jongin could not bite back on the moan that promptly made its way out of his mouth as he lightly squirmed under Adrian, body arching into Adrian’s.

Even though he was clearly aroused by the kiss, he fixed Adrian with a disappointed look when the latter brought his head up again. He opened his mouth to say something, but he decided against it for some reason. Adrian knew that he wanted to be kissed elsewhere.

As the ball of light continued to levitate around them, Adrian released Jongin’s arms and rose to his feet, huffing heavily.

“Adrian,” rasped Jongin as Adrian started to walk away with his hands clenched into tight fists and throat parched.

Adrian did not stop, however, stomping past the trees hurriedly in order to get away from the witch before he could turn around and finish what he had just started. And he knew that he would come to regret it.

He could not let his sins follow Jongin, too. He knew that if he gave in tonight, his actions would haunt him for the rest of his life. If history were any indication, every last one of his desires would only be met with paramount grief and destruction.

As much as he wanted Jongin, he could not take him.

* * *

When he returned at daybreak, he found the witch sitting against a tree with his arms wrapped loosely around his legs. Adrian was not sure if Jongin had gotten any sleep at all, but he looked disgruntled and sorrowed.

He raised his head to look at Adrian, who was approaching him. His eyes grew even sadder, meeting Adrian’s. “We ought to get back up the mountain before nightfall,” Adrian said hoarsely.

Jongin shot up to his feet and confronted him. “Last night—”

“Let us not talk about it,” Adrian grumbled, brushing past him.

Jongin caught the sleeve of his shirt and halted him. “No,” he spat. “Why do you toy with my feelings like this?”

Adrian turned to look at Jongin’s eyes that were glistening with tears and fatigue.

“If you do not like me, then just say so,” said Jongin. “I went so low last night for you. I put aside my dignity and offered myself to you. But you… you just walked away.”

Adrian tore his arm away from Jongin’s gentle grip with more force than necessary. The witch flinched at Adrian’s aggression. “You don’t think I want you?!” he growled at Jongin, who took a step back, eyes widening. “You don’t think I want a lot of things?!”

The leaves on the trees around Jongin fell from their branches then. The ball of light that was circling Jongin abruptly died into nothingness.

“But everything I touch turns to dust!” Adrian stopped to run a hand through his hair and take in a deep breath. “I am not someone who can give you what you want, Jongin. Not even for a night.”

The witch hung his head, eyes closed. They stood there in silence for a moment too long before Jongin eventually nodded his head and said, “All right. I’m sorry.”

With that, he began to walk away, and as he passed Adrian, he sniffled a little.

Adrian grabbed Jongin’s wrist and pulled him back momentarily. Then cupping Jongin’s soft, warm cheeks, Adrian leaned his head down and pressed their lips together. Jongin stilled in his hands, his eyes clenched, his arms limp at his sides.

It was a chaste and brief kiss. Even so, it left Adrian with a burning desire and gratification like no other. Not even Aalitra had managed to get him to feel something so strong. He had cared for her, of course. But he did not think that it was the same kind of care that he was starting to feel for Jongin. This felt more real than anything.

Care. Was that what this was? Adrian remembered the time his father told him that he would be incapable of something like love. He was born to be a destroyer. His calling was to war, not to love. As a God of War, he would never learn how to love, and he would never be loved. This was his calling.

In spite of that, though he had not received much love, he had managed to learn what it could be. He had thought that he had loved Aalitra. But he did not hesitate for a single heartbeat to kill her when he saw that his son was in danger.

He had grown to understand that while he did not display affection and love in the more traditional manner, he loved his son. It was the greatest form of love there was. And he had not received it from his own father, who only saw him as a weapon for war. Adrian would go to the end of all realms for Kylan.

He was beginning to see that he could love another the same. He might not be able to show it, but he would raze the world down for Jongin if it came down to it.

And he could not afford that. Not at the moment.

He pulled back, breaking the kiss. Jongin’s eyes fluttered open and slowly rose to meet Adrian’s. Still holding the witch’s delicate face in his hands, Adrian heaved a great sigh.

“This is… all that I can give you right now,” he muttered. Jongin lifted his hands to clutch at Adrian’s shirt at the front to steady himself as he lightly stumbled. “I cannot afford any distractions.”

Jongin licked his lips, as though he wanted to taste Adrian’s lips, and bowed his head. Adrian retrieved his hands. “I understand,” he said sadly. “Our priority should be Kylan. I will not… stand in the way.”

“You know, if things were different—”

“I know,” Jongin cut him off, his voice cracking. “The sun’s coming up. We should… get going.”

As he pulled away from Adrian, he lightly brushed his lips with his fingers, hanging his head.

* * *

Adrian had made the right call. Jongin was embarrassed, of course. He had desperately professed his feelings and desires for the man last night only to be turned down. But Adrian had been kind about it. He had not insulted Jongin for lowering himself like that. He had not rubbed it in Jongin’s face. In fact, he had sounded just as devastated and let down when he told Jongin that everything he touched ‘turned to dust’.

In the light of day, Jongin realized that Adrian had done them both a favour. While he had optimistically believed that he would have been able to leave what happened in the woods last night in the woods, he knew now that he would never have been able to do that. Not when even the brief kiss Adrian had given him a few hours ago was etched so deeply in his soul. He would have made it difficult for both him and Adrian had they gone all the way the previous night.

Besides, now that he knew that Adrian wanted him just as much, he wondered how betrayed the man would feel once he discovered the truth about Jongin.

As they trekked up the stairs of the mountain, Jongin kept a vigilant look out for the wraiths, though he doubted that they would show up during the day. Nonetheless, he could never be cautious enough when it came to Moon Wraiths.

He only relaxed once they had crossed the point where they had encountered the wraiths last night.

* * *

# Quest Five

**Gateway of The Gods.**

As much as Adrian hated listening to people talk, he wished that the silence between him and the witch would end. Jongin was refusing to talk to him, and while that was a reasonable reaction, the silence for once made Adrian uncomfortable.

So, he broke it.

“We should rest,” he said when he noticed the lag in Jongin’s pace.

“You do not look like you need one,” Jongin mumbled, sounding short of breath, without looking up at Adrian as he pressed on past him. “Let’s keep moving.”

“ _You_ do,” said Adrian.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I told you. I won’t stand in the way.”

“Jongin,” Adrian groaned.

The witch stopped and sighed. “Fine. I will rest.” He walked over to a boulder and plumped heavily on it. He kept his head and eyes low, fingers fidgeting aimlessly with the hem of his shirt.

Adrian walked over to him and knelt before him. “You said that you understood.”

Jongin lifted his gaze just enough to meet Adrian’s. “And I do,” he murmured. He blinked his eyes softly and brought a hand up to touch a side of Adrian’s face. He then gently drew his fingers along Adrian’s beard and smiled. “Fate is cruel.”

Adrian tried not to let the witch’s touch choke him. “It is.”

Something changed in Jongin’s expression then. He withdrew his hand from Adrian’s face and cast his eyes low. “Adrian,” he let out in a nearly inaudible whisper. “There is something… that I must… tell you.”

Adrian pulled back a little, eyebrows arching. “What is it?”

The hesitance and reluctance were palpable in Jongin’s eyes. He curled his lower lip between his teeth and gnawed at it nervously for a moment. He exhaled shakily, raising his gaze.

He then shook his head. “It… It can wait. We need to find Kylan first.”

Adrian could not argue with that, but he was curious about what had the witch so unnerved. He did not press the witch to speak, however. Rising back to his full height, he held a hand out to Jongin.

Smiling faintly, Jongin took it and let himself be drawn to his feet. He did not let go of Adrian’s hand, not until Adrian pulled it away to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

A florid flush spread over Jongin’s cheeks.

* * *

He had never held someone’s hand before. He had always wanted to, though. To hold someone’s hand as they strolled through the Red Woods in the evening, accompanied by Jongin’s pet animals. The flowers on the path would bloom for them. The winds would whistle gently between them. It was one of Jongin’s many dreams that had made him stray from the calling of a god. He had wanted to be loved by a simple man and to spend the rest of his life somewhere small and quiet, cosy and happy.

He knew that Adrian was not that simple man, and they would never be the subjects of Jongin’s unreasonable dream. Nevertheless, the fleeting moment of his hand in Adrian’s made his heart full.

* * *

The sun was rapidly setting, and Adrian began to worry about what horrors inhabited the mountain this high up. He noticed that Jongin had closed the distance between them as he sidled next to Adrian for the rest of the way up the stairs as darkness started to descent.

“Are you sure the artificer’s all right?” Adrian asked at one point.

“Yes,” said Jongin. “We shouldn’t worry about him. Amongst his other skills, he has also mastered the art of fleeing. I do not know how he does it, but he is good at escaping all sorts of danger.”

“Hmm. It’s a particularly useful skill.”

Jongin smiled a cheeky smile then. “You don’t seem like a man who would prefer fleeing over fighting.”

“I weigh my options and consequences,” said Adrian. “If fighting deemed to be more fruitful, I fight. But if fleeing is the better alternative, I flee. Though I haven’t fled many times in my life.”

“When have you?”

Adrian licked his lips. “When I left my realm for starters.”

Jongin fell quiet for a length. “Adrian,” he called a moment later. Adrian glanced over to him. “I never thanked you,” said the witch, blushing. “for… telling me the truth about… Aalitra. For trusting me.”

Adrian fought the urge to reach out and take hold of Jongin’s hand. “You have… given me reasons to.”

Jongin swallowed and looked away, frowning faintly.

They jerked to a sudden halt as Adrian seized Jongin’s arm to stop him when he caught a sight of something four-legged, grey and furry crawling ahead of them. There were three of them, sniffing about.

Jongin gasped, startling Adrian. “What?!”

“Wolves!” the witch exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear.

“That’s not a good thing,” Adrian grumbled.

Pulling his arm out of Adrian’s hand, Jongin stepped toward the pack of grey wolves. They howled and huffed softly before trotting over to Jongin, wagging their tails.

The witch dropped to his knees and welcomed the wolves into his arms, grinning and giggling. “They are harmless,” said Jongin.

“Perhaps to you,” replied Adrian, keeping his distance from the wolves. “Come. There is no time to pet wolves.”

“This one’s mate is pregnant,” rasped Jongin, rubbing the head of one of the wolves. “They are hunting for mountain birds because she likes them.”

“I do not care about what’s on their agenda.”

Though he thoroughly admired the way the wolves were fawning over Jongin and vice versa. He even almost smiled at the sight. But then one of the wolves turned to him and snarled ferociously.

“No,” Jongin told the wolf, throwing an arm around it. “He is not trying to attack you. He is angry all the time. It’s just his face.”

He was talking to the wolf. About Adrian.

Scowling harder, Adrian said, “We have to go.”

With a heavy sigh, Jongin rose back up to his feet and pulled away from the wolves. “Come by the Red Woods!”

“You do not have to make friends with every animal you see on our journey,” Adrian spat as they continued up the stairs.

“Well, they’re all that I have,” said Jongin, and Adrian felt a pang in his chest. He kept his gaze on the stairs. “And they’ll probably be the only friends I will ever have.”

Adrian wanted to tell him that that was not true. But he could not bring himself to say that Jongin had him. That would be a promise he would not be able to keep.

“Well, them and Rakar,” sighed Jongin.

If Kylan had been here, he would know the right thing to say to Jongin. He would promise Jongin his eternal friendship. Strange how a six-year-old could empathize more than Adrian ever would be able to.

Adrian paused in his tracks to glance back at the three wolves that were trudging behind Jongin. Groaning and rolling his eyes, he said, “Look. Now, they’re following you.”

Jongin turned around and smiled at them. “You must leave,” he told them gently. “I will be all right. Besides, your mate needs you.”

Whimpering and howling disappointedly, the wolves scurried away after giving Jongin a good and long sniff.

Adrian clamped a hand around Jongin’s forearm when the witch started past him. “Animals are better than humans, anyway,” he told Jongin. “They are sincere. Loyal. They only trust and love those who are pure-hearted. You will never be betrayed this way.”

Jongin smiled at Adrian then. “I know,” he muttered. “But they do not say my name.”

“What?”

Jongin shook his head. “Nothing. It’s getting dark. I should conjure a—”

“There you are!” Rakar’s voice rolled over the mountain in echoes. Jongin and Adrian turned with a start to find the artificer standing on the stairs with his arms stretched upwards like he was thanking the heavens. “I thought you two had died!”

“Rakar!” Jongin screeched and hurtled up the stairs before throwing himself, quite gracefully, onto Rakar. “You escaped the wraiths!”

“And the wolves and mountain trolls,” groaned Rakar.

“Mountain trolls?” repeated Jongin.

“Oh, yes. But don’t worry. They are gone. I saw them hike up to the peak.”

“And there are no more wraiths up here?”

“Not that I’ve run into any so far,” said the artificer.

“You ought to stop talking, though I imagine it would be very hard for you,” Adrian said, walking up to them. “The air’s thin up here. We should save our breath.”

Rakar rolled his eyes. “And I’ve missed you, too, you big lug.” He turned to Jongin again. “I have found the cave. And the Gateway.”

Adrian’s eyes bulged. “Where is it?”

“This way.” Rakar scratched the back of his head as he led them up the stairs. “I was… tinkering with Gateway while I waited for you two. And… I have encountered an inconvenient complication with the activator.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jongin, head slightly tilted to a side.

“You’ll see.”

Just as the night’s darkness swallowed the land, they arrived at the mouth of cave. Jongin promptly conjured a spell to light their way. Adrian watched where he stepped as he entered the cave behind Jongin.

“I’m sorry,” muttered Jongin when he stumbled and fell against Adrian, who quickly caught him, arm curling around the witch’s waist.

“It’s… all right,” Adrian whispered in reply, his hand deliberately stroking the small of Jongin’s back as he withdrew his arm.

“Are you two coming?” Rakar huffed.

“Yes,” Jongin let out and hurried after him. “Nothing has changed in this cave since the last time I was here.”

Adrian agreed with that, for as far as his memory stretched. It had been nearly a decade since he was last here. So, his memory of this place was a little foggy.

“Why did the gods build the Gateway in a dank, dirty little cave?” asked Adrian.

“It didn’t use to look like this,” said Jongin. “centuries ago. But over the years, it hid itself from the rest of the world. You were the first to have used the Gateway in a very long time.”

“And I broke it,” sighed Adrian.

“Nothing Rakar can’t fix,” said Jongin, as though to stroke the artificer’s ego.

Rakar exhaled exasperatedly. “I might not be able to fix this one.”

Adrian felt his heart sink. “Why not?”

“Because of the complication I told you about.”

They came to a bridge, adorned with moss and glowing mushrooms, that connected the two platforms. Adrian recalled the bridge and the fact that the Gateway lay on the other side of it.

It was big enough to fit three trolls at once.

As they crossed it, Adrian glanced briefly at Jongin, reminding himself that this would all be over soon. His journey with the witch ended here. Whether the Gateway was fixed or not.

He looked down at Jongin’s hand and slowly reached out for it. But before he could take it, the witch broke into a jog toward the end of the bridge, gasping.

“Qinto!” He dropped to a crouch to welcome the baby fox that leaped into his arms. The horse and the wagon had also made it to the other side of the bridge.

“How did you manage to escape?” Adrian asked Rakar.

The artificer shrugged. “I have my tricks.”

Lowering the fox back to the ground, Jongin stood up and gazed ahead at the majestic archway made of mossy stone ahead of them. “We’re almost there,” said the witch as he started for the archway. The rest of them followed, including Jongin’s pet fox.

They soon arrived at the room where the Gateway of the Gods can be opened. The Gateway itself was a pathway, a portal, forged with light that had to be activated by the gemstones that were set in the walls. When activated, the gemstones emitted rays of their own toward the centre of the room, which acted as the focal point for the Gateway’s initiation.

The room looked dark and dead, compared to the last time Adrian had been here. In other words, it looked… broken. He distinctly remembered a splash of technicolour when he first landed in this room. Now, the gemstones were covered in moss.

Rakar made his way to the panel in a corner of the room, where Adrian assumed the activator was situated.

“The gemstones are out of alignment,” Rakar pointed out. “I can reconfigure them… within a reasonable timeframe, of course. But getting them to focus on the right angles could take quite a bit of time. And their powers might be knackered. But Jongin, darling, you can take care of that. That’s where your magic fingers come to play.”

“Then what seems to be the problem?” asked Adrian.

“Look,” said the artificer, pointing to a mechanism on the panel, that had a key-shaped hole in it. “This is where the activator used to be. But now it’s gone.”

“It has been gone for years,” said Jongin.

“Yes. It’s not necessary when the Gateway is activated from another realm. But to activate from this realm—”

“You would need the activator,” muttered Jongin, face paling.

“Do you see the problem now?”

Adrian clenched his jaw. “Where is this activator?” he spat through his teeth. “I will find it.”

“You can’t,” said Jongin, frowning. “The activator’s been gone for very long. There is a big change that the gods might have taken it with them when they stopped using the Gateway. And we cannot get to the gods _without_ the Gateway.”

“And that leads to our second conundrum,” said the artificer. “Because I am a one-of-a-kind prodigy, I can reconstruct the activator’s receiver into a temporary contrivance to activate the Gateway.”

Adrian frowned, clearly not following what Rakar was babbling about. But Jongin looked intrigued.

“You can?” he asked.

“Of course!” exclaimed Rakar. “My ancestors built this thing, remember? If they can do, I can do it. I can probably do better, to be honest.”

“Then what’s the conundrum now?” growled Adrian.

Rakar sucked in a big sigh. “The activator was created to mimic a god’s power. So that once they have travelled to wherever they want to go, they can be recalled to this realm. The activator worked as a key to both send gods out of this realm _and_ to bring them back. In that sense, the activator… sort of travelled with them in… um, spirit.”

Adrian rubbed the back of his stiff neck. “I’m not following.”

“I’m not surprised,” scoffed Rakar, rolling his eyes. “All right, big guy. Listen carefully. We need the activator, or a substitute for the activator, that can activate the portal _and_ travel with you to your realm, so that the Gateway remains activated for your return. Otherwise, you close the Gateway in this realm.”

“I opened the Gateway from my realm, though. Without the activator in this realm.”

“That was a one-way passage,” said Rakar. “Now, you want to go there and come back. Your start line is your finish line.”

Adrian nodded, eyebrows furrowing deeply. “How do we get… the replacement activator, then?”

Rakar crossed his arms over his chest. “Any god of this realm could activate it,” he said, glancing briefly to Jongin.

The witch blinked at the artificer, looking shocked and confounded. He quickly averted his gaze from Rakar as all blood drained from his face.

Before Adrian could investigate the situation between the witch and the artificer any further, his attention was drawn towards the blinking rune on his palm. He raised his head and shot Jongin an alarmed look. The witch had gone completely still, as though he had seen another wraith. Perhaps he had, but it was not fear that his expression reflected.

“Ialdir,” he let out breathlessly.

Adrian spun on his heel at once when he heard the sound of clapping hands rumbling through the cave.

“Well done,” Adrian heard Ialdir’s voice thundering in resounding echoes around him. “You have come this far. My father and I have clearly underestimated your pluck, outsider.”

Ialdir emerged from the darkness of the cave wearing a cocky grin, flashing his glinting gold teeth. Adrian narrowed his eyes at the man who was following after Ialdir.

Like Ialdir, he had his hair and beard in braids, his knuckles were adorned with metal spikes. One of his eyes was fully white while the other resembled Ialdir’s. He wore a similar smirk on his lips, too. He was bearing a warhammer in one hand and a shield in the other.

“It’s Vorrg,” said Jongin. “Ialdir’s half-brother.”

“He’s an even bigger jerk than Ialdir,” whispered Rakar.

“This is the big tough guy you were worried about?” scoffed Vorrg, slapping Ialdir’s back. “He does not look all that intimidating.” He clanged the warhammer against his shield, grinning arrogantly in Adrian’s way.

Adrian drew in a deep breath, hands fisted at his sides, as he readied himself for a fight. This was not a fleeing situation. In fact, he would love to rip Ialdir apart and shred him to pieces for taking Kylan away from him.

“Father would love to mount his head on his mantel,” said Vorrg.

“You had a chance to walk away and keep your life,” Ialdir spat at Adrian. “But you just had to be so stubborn. Now, you are going to die. Miserably.”

Adrian rolled his clenched jaw. “Good to see you again, Ialdir. And I am glad you brought company,” he said in a calm but threatening tone. “Instead of one, I get to kill two of Aeyr’s sons.”

Both Ialdir and Vorrg’s expressions fell flaccid. For a length following the threat, they did nothing but gawk at Adrian.

Jongin caught Adrian’s arm, as though to hold him back. “Adrian,” he called in a low voice. When Adrian glanced back at him, he found the witch frowning worriedly at him.

Adrian took hold of Jongin’s hand that was wrapped around his arm. “I will be fine,” he said and turned to Rakar. “Get to work. Fix the Gateway. I’ll take care of them.”

Rakar nodded and hurried away at once. He paused briefly to grab Jongin by the arm. “Come!”

As Jongin was dragged away, he continued to look back at Adrian, eyes full of concern.

Adrian turned to Ialdir and Vorrg again with steely-eyed determination. “You’re old,” said Vorrg. “And slow. Even if you get the Gateway to work, you won’t be alive to use it, outsider.”

He slammed the warhammer against the shield once more, another sinister grin playing on his mouth.

“Then stop your little dance and get to it already,” said Adrian.

“Grouchy,” snorted Vorrg.

“You have no idea,” replied Ialdir, raising a hand to his medallion. Adrian took one last deep breath and planted his feet firmly into the ground.

“Oh,” Rakar said, popping back into the room. “Spruced this up really good for you. Knock ‘em dead, soldier.”

He tossed the Godsbane over to Adrian, who promptly caught it and gave it an effortless swing. An unfazed smirk took form on Adrian’s lips as he surveyed the additional details on the battleaxe. Its pommel was sputtering sparks, as though miniscule lightnings were dancing on it. Adrian figured that was Jongin’s touch. Rakar had the edges of the steel blades lined with gold and the handle strengthened with the finest ebony. Even so, the battleaxe had never felt lighter.

When he lifted his gaze to the half-brothers, he found them studying the battleaxe, too.

“It’s called the Godsbane,” Adrian told them, swinging the weapon in his hand. “Do you want to know why? It’s killed every god and titan it’s ever met, and they were worth far more than you two wimpy lickspittles ever will be. _You_ should not have come after me and my son. Now, not only you will die, but so will every god of this realm.”

Vorrg was the first to lose his composure as he roared in exasperation and charged toward Adrian, brandishing his warhammer.

Adrian had learned to use the momentum of his opponent against them when he fought his first foe. It was an amateur mistake, to underestimate your opposer’s self-possession. It made you sloppy and arrogant. The overconfidence was often one’s downfall.

Vorrg took the same misstep, much to Adrian’s delight.

But then he noticed Ialdir tightening his hand around his medallion over Vorrg’s shoulder. Knowing Ialdir’s penchant for tricks and cunningness, Adrian rethought his game plan.

Vorrg was not going to make the first attack. Ialdir was.

The instant Ialdir vanished into thin air, Adrian leaped out of the way, moving away from his position, where Ialdir must have aimed to land. Because he did. Unfortunately for him, he was in Adrian’s reach.

Adrian grappled an arm around Ialdir’s neck and yanked him to a side before slamming him against a wall of the cave. Groaning, Ialdir quickly reached for his medallion.

When he noticed that it was missing, he craned his head up to gape at Adrian in shock.

Smirking, Adrian held up the medallion, which he had managed to snatch a moment ago, when he had caught hold of Ialdir’s medallion and tore it off of his neck. “Looking for this?” he asked, arching an eyebrow before he dropped the medallion to the ground and stomped on it, shattering it into pieces.

“No!” Ialdir screamed, and it was the last thing he’d ever say. Adrian did not hesitate for a second as he slashed the battleaxe across his neck, decapitating Ialdir for good.

As his lifeless body fell to the ground and his head rolled away, Adrian turned around to face Vorrg who had stopped dead in his tracks, staring at his half-brother’s severed body in horror.

“Still think I’m old and slow?” asked Adrian, tossing the Godsbane in his grip. He lifted his other hand to beckon at Vorrg to come at him.

“You…” Vorrg let out shakily, tearing his gaze away from Ialdir’s corpse to fix it on Adrian. “You are going to pay for this!”

He lunged at Adrian and knocked him back with his shield before he swung the warhammer in Adrian’s way. Blocking the blow with the Godsbane, Adrian booted Vorrg on the chest, sending him stumbled back a few steps. Vorrg recovered forthwith and threw the warhammer at Adrian once more while driving the shield into Adrian’s battleaxe.

Though Adrian managed to dodge the strike of the warhammer by inches, the shield staggered him a little. Regaining his footing, he lurched towards Vorrg, knocking the shield out the god’s grip with his battleaxe. As the shield clattered on the ground, Vorrg plunged a fist into Adrian’s skull, the metal spikes on his knuckles gashing a side of Adrian’s head and face.

As he raised the fist again for another blow, Adrian caught it and drove the battleaxe through Vorrg’s arm, severing it from his body.

With blood spurted out of his arm and puddled the ground, Vorrg doddered back, gasping for breath. “No, no, no!” he cried, gawking at his hacked off arm.

“This is not the end,” he said, his limpid eyes glaring at Adrian.

“Wow,” Rakar rasped when he and Jongin returned to the room of the Gateway with tools and materials. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Jongin rubbernecked Ialdir who was dead on the ground and Vorrg who was desperately looking for a way to escape. Adrian assumed that he had followed Ialdir here.

Cradling the hewed off arm in a hand, Vorrg looked over to Jongin. “You,” he let out, panting hard. Jongin took a step back, his face turning into a sallow complexion. “Traitor.”

Adrian scowled, his gaze bouncing between Vorrg and Jongin, who were facing each other.

“Y-You should… be… ashamed of yourself,” Vorrg spat at Jongin. The rest of the blood drained from the witch’s cheeks. “You turned your back on your people and family. And now, you hobnob with an outlander, aiding in his travels and pursuits against us! We should have destroyed you long ago.”

“What is he talking about?” Adrian interrupted in a low growl. Jongin did not turn his gaze toward Adrian as he continued to stare at Vorrg.

“Oh,” Vorrg let out, turning back to Adrian. Through the excruciating pain, the god managed to grin from ear to ear. “You don’t know.”

He glanced over to Jongin with a set of arching brows.

“He doesn’t know,” said Vorrg.

“Vorrg,” Jongin breathed out with a sob choking his throat. “Please…”

Vorrg cackled with amusement, holding his severed arm that was dripping blood. “You swore to kill every god of this realm,” he spat at Adrian. “Yet you have been rubbing shoulders with one all this while.”

Adrian’s arms fall limp to his sides as he looked at Jongin, who was staring down at the ground.

“He is a selfish, backstabbing, weak little whore, who not only betrayed his own kind and chose to live in solitary but stooped to the lowest of all and now lives as a wood witch.”

Adrian felt his breathing seize as the blood coursing in his veins gradually turned into hot magma. His skin began to sizzle as flames danced behind his eyes. The veins in his arms and neck were protruding as the god within him emanated, tearing through the walls he had kept up all these years.

“You never wondered why he can’t lift a finger against us?” spat Vorrg. “He can’t. He is one of us. A God of Nature. Never been one for battles and blood. But we did not think he would be so puny that he would run away with his tail between his legs!”

Adrian closed his eyes, every part of his body trembling with a rage he would soon not be able to contain. He had to stop. He had to control himself. He needed to reign in the fire that was threatening to burst out.

But he could not desist the wrath that was beginning to betide his senses. He saw his past and the horrors of it flash before his eyes. Fire, ash, blood, terror. They used to preside over his life and fate.

He was, yet again, played for a fool by a _god_.

While a part of him wanted him to fall to his knees and break down, most of him hungered to unleash his true form and burn this realm down to nothing but rubbles and ashes.

“He will betray you, too,” Vorrg said. Adrian continued to keep his eyes shut. “It is what he is good at.”

“N-No,” Jongin croaked out weakly. “I… I did not betray… anyone. I chose my own fate. I could not… destroy this realm with the other gods. And… Adrian… Adrian, please, I wanted to tell you. I swear.”

Adrian swallowed a searing hot lump in his throat as his hand tightened around the grip of his battleaxe.

“Adrian…” Jongin called softly, his voice full of sorrow and fear.

“My father will make you _both_ pay for this!” Vorrg bayed. “You will suffer the wrath of the God of War!”

Adrian’s eyes flared open then, glaring with red flames. “And so will he,” he snarled and launched his battleaxe at Vorrg’s with a brutal force.

As the Godsbane struck Vorrg’s chest, he was sent flying until his back crashed against the wall, blood spurting out of his mouth. Jongin gasped, horrified.

Vorrg took in one last breath before he fell dead with the battleaxe pinning him against the wall.

With fire still flaring in his eyes and hands, Adrian stomped over to Vorrg and yanked the battleaxe out of his chest before he turned to Jongin.

Rage continued to surge through his body as he started towards Jongin, gripping the battleaxe tightly in his hand.

Jongin did not turn a hair, his wide, bloodshot eyes fixed on Adrian. He stood still, as though his body was too numb to move. Or he knew that he had nowhere to run and that death was imminent.

Adrian raised the battleaxe and swung it at the boy without a second thought as all of him went up in flames, burning holes into his clothes.

Jongin did not flinch or blink. A tear rolled down his cheek as he braced himself for the impending blow that would behead him and send him to his death.

“Stop!” Rakar bellowed then as an arrow shot through the front of Adrian’s shoulder, staggering him back with his battleaxe less than two inches away from Jongin’s neck.

A pack of three wolves burst into the room then, growling and snarling ferociously, and threw themselves between Adrian and Jongin. They stood no chance. Adrian would hack every last one of them down with a single swing of his battleaxe.

Pulling the arrow out of his shoulder, Adrian looked to Rakar over Jongin’s shoulder, who lowered the bow. “You hurt him, and you will never see your son again,” the artificer spat.

Adrian panted, puffing out clouds of fiery air. Jongin was miserably gawking at the monster Adrian was turning into, tears streaking his pale face. The baby fox jumped out of nowhere and stood with the wolves, baring its tiny teeth at Adrian in an attempt to protect Jongin.

“He is the only one who can help you now,” said Rakar in a calmer tone. “If you want to go back to your realm and reach Aeyr, you need him. He is the only one who can activate the Gateway now.”

The Godsbane nearly slipped from Adrian’s grip. He met Jongin’s gaze with a rage like no other.

“Think of your son,” Rakar said repeatedly.

Gnashing his teeth mercilessly, Adrian turned around and hurled the battleaxe toward a wall of the room and roared monstrously.

As he stormed out of the cave, he heard Rakar quietly comforting Jongin, who broke into sobs.

* * *

He did not do anything because he knew that he deserved it. He had accepted that fate when he saw Adrian stride towards him, his eyes and hands in flames, veins running along his arms and neck like the steaming crevices on magma, ready to end Jongin’s life for his betrayal.

It was Jongin’s just rewards. He had lied to the man, hid the truth, made him a fool. Not even when Adrian had told him that he trusted him did Jongin muster the courage to tell him the truth.

Now, he would never get to redeem himself by coming forth with the truth himself. He would never be able to earn Adrian’s trust again.

As he broke apart in Rakar’s arms, sobbing on the ground, surrounded by the wolves and Qinto, he struggled to breath. On the one hand, the metallic stench of blood that filled the room suffocated him, and on the other, his heart hurt madly as though it had been ripped out of his chest and stomped on repeatedly.

“There, there,” said Rakar, stroking his hair. “You mustn’t lose faith, Jongin.”

“I lied to him,” Jongin let out between sobs, gasping for air. “He feels… betrayed.”

And rightfully so. Jongin _had_ betrayed him.

“But you renounced your godship long ago,” said Rakar. “You do not want to be one. Just like him.”

Jongin straightened up and wiped his tears. “It does not matter to him,” he whimpered out. “I did not tell him the truth. I knew how much he hates and distrusts gods, yet I lied to him.”

Rakar sighed heavily. “Now, is that a good enough to reason to come at you like that? To slaughter you like you were a goat?”

Jongin was about to say yes.

“You hid the truth from everyone,” said Rakar. That was true. Jongin was not sure how or when Rakar had figured it out, but he did not recall ever telling the man in all the years they had known each other about his real identity. “He has some serious anger management issues.”

Rising back to his feet, Rakar picked up the tools and wended his way over to the panel. He gagged lightly when he glanced at the severed body parts strewn across the room.

“I can’t believe he desecrated the room of the sanctified Gateway with unspeakable, horrid sacrileges in the span of an hour,” spat Rakar as he began to reconfigure the gemstones sitting in the walls.

Jongin glanced at the wolves and tacitly thanked them before telling them that he would be fine. They eventually left after each giving him a gentle lick on the cheeks.

He then wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face in his knees, sobbing some more.

His heart was still thundering. His head continued to replay the image of Adrian swinging the battleaxe at him. Jongin’s life had flashed before his eyes in that moment. But more than anything, he was reminded of the previous night when he was sitting on Adrian’s lap, relishing every little touch of Adrian’s hands on his body.

It was all truly over now. Their future was now grim and bloody. And it was all Jongin’s fault.

He knew all along that Adrian would hate him if he knew the truth and yet, he let himself fall. He could blame no one but himself. All the years he had been alive, he had always blamed himself for his failures. No one wanted him. It was his fault.

Soon, no one would remember him or his name. He would fade into nothingness. Perhaps that would be less painful than living every day, fearing the inevitable.

Night became day. And the day soon darkened into evenfall. Adrian still had not returned. Jongin was not sure how he would face the man when he did. No matter how much he cried or tried to prepare himself, he knew that he would never be able to face Adrian.

“It’s done,” Rakar rasped, stepping away from the panel, wiping the sweat beads that were collected on his forehead. “It’s done.”

Jongin pushed himself up from where he was sitting on the ground. He lifelessly dragged his feet over to the gemstones and sucked in a deep breath.

“You need to power them up,” said Rakar.

Nodding his heavy head, Jongin raised his hands and directed them towards the gemstones. He felt weak and fatigued. It was as though there were no life left in him.

But he tried, nonetheless. He had to. For Kylan.

He wondered if Kylan would forgive him. Or would he feel as betrayed as his father and want to kill Jongin in a justifiable rage?

Once he had restored the power in the gemstones, he turned to Rakar, shoulders slumped tiredly. He avoided looking to Vorrg and Ialdir’s dead bodies on the ground, which Rakar had promised to take care of soon.

“Now, we wait for Adrian to come back,” sighed Rakar. “You might as well get some rest.”

Jongin did not try to argue. He needed the rest. So, he made his way out of the room and then out of the cave. He did not find Adrian anywhere nearby.

He sat down at the mouth of the cave and wrapped the cloak around him before lying down, curling into a ball. Qinto joined him shortly after.

As he quickly drifted off, he found himself wandering down the abyss again.

Except that this time, he had not gone looking for it.

He stood still in the darkness, staring into the abyss of black with his heart pounding in dread.

And then he saw the archway of light materialized almost instantly before him. He tried to turn back, but then he heard the voice.

“ _Jongin. Son of Thyldir_.”

It was Aeyr.

Swallowing, Jongin started toward the doorway.

He told himself to be brave as he stepped into the archway and came out on the other side.

Ashes and palls of dark smoke hovered in the air around him. The smell of flowing magma filled his nose. Everywhere he turned, he saw cascading red and mounts of rocks.

When he gazed up at the red, cloudless sky, he realized that he was in Aeyr’s home. He was convinced that hell looked a lot like this place.

He spied a staircase, next to a downward stream of lava, built into a mount of rock. He knew that if he were here for real, he would have trouble taking in a single breath. He would burn to death.

At the same time, he realized that Adrian would do just fine in here. He had caught a glimpse of the fiery monster Adrian’s god form was earlier when he had struck Vorrg down before turning to Jongin.

He climbed up at the stairs, careful not to misstep.

Reaching the top, he blinked at the ashes that floated before him and glanced to the crate that was lying in the middle of an empty platform that was surrounded by towers of rock and magma.

Jongin slowly stepped toward the crate that looked a lot like a casket. His heart nearly fell out of his chest when he peered into it only to find Kylan in it, eyes tightly shut, peacefully asleep. His chest was rising and falling steadily. He was alive.

“Kylan!” he gasped and almost reached into the crate to hold the boy.

But he was interrupted by the quake in the ground. With his blood drumming in his ears, he turned around, hands almost trembling.

The ground rumbled with every step that Aeyr advanced. Panting breathlessly, Jongin glanced all the way up at the titan and shuddered at the god’s presence. Aeyr bore the appearance of a lion’s head and a man’s body, and was the size of a titan, taller than an oak tree.

Fear coiled around Jongin’s throat.

Aeyr lowered himself on a knee and tilted his head at Jongin. “He has killed my sons and my daughter,” he said in a low grumble that almost sounded like a growl. “Tell him that nothing but death awaits him here.”

Jongin glanced back at the casket and gulped. “Mighty Aeyr,” he said carefully. “I… do not think so.”

Aeyr blinked, taken aback. “What?”

Jongin drew a deep breath. “You have sent three of your children to do your bidding. He has bested every one of them thus far. All three of them are dead. I’d say his chances are looking pretty good.”

Aeyr rose back to his full height and huffed. “Watch what you say, son of Thyldir.”

“You took his son,” spat Jongin. “He will not rest until he gets his son back.”

“He is my grandchild,” said Aeyr in a surprisingly calm tone. “And he will be the future of this realm. He will grow up to be the greatness he is destined for. He will be the greatest God of War there has ever been. And for him, I would not mind sacrificing a few of my own children.”

That was sickening. This was where Adrian was different and _better_ in comparison.

“You would not mind killing your own children to destroy the world,” Jongin told him, grimacing with disgust. “But he will destroy the world to protect his son. You seriously misjudge his willpower to destroy anything that endangers his son. He is twice the god you will ever be, Aeyr.”

Aeyr laughed then. “Now, don’t get me wrong. I do look forward to meeting him. I am _dying_ to see the god of another realm who had managed to kill three of my children like it was nothing. But I am not my children. You have seen my works during the wars.”

“You instigated wars, Aeyr. You stood by and watched while they brewed and bloomed among mortal men. But he has taken wars into his own hands. He has led them. He has participated in them. He was born into one. War in his realm meant blood and battle among _gods_ where mortals were nothing but mere casualties.”

“Then why isn’t he here already?” scoffed Aeyr.

Because he was no longer in his prime, Jongin thought to himself. He could tell that it was not Adrian who was oppressing his powers and true form. It was his age. For the most part. His body could not heal fast. It could not take the powerful form of god at command. He was still incredible strong, but his strength and willpower would not be enough to take down Aeyr.

Jongin was not going to tell the titan that. He wanted to undermine Aeyr’s confidence. He wanted Aeyr to hesitate.

“His journey was deferred,” said Jongin. “But he will get here. And you better be ready for a fight, Aeyr.”

“Oh, I will,” said Aeyr. “I am not letting my grandson turn away from his destiny. The realm needs him. The rebuilding of this world needs him.”

Jongin walked back to the casket and frowned sadly at the little boy. “Return him to his father, Aeyr,” he whispered, reaching down to touch Kylan’s hand. He stopped in his tracks, however, eyes darting to the boy standing on the other side of the casket.

He had a head of pale hair and wore nothing but a loincloth. He could not be any older than Kylan.

“ _I will look after him_ ,” the boy said, but not out loud. Jongin heard him, nevertheless.

 _“Who are you?”_ Jongin inquired tacitly.

The boy looked at Kylan and smiled. _“He named me Nix.”_

Nix? It meant ‘nothing’.

“Besides,” said Aeyr, and Jongin turned away from Nix to face the titan. “the boy does not want to see the man who murdered his mother again.”

“He does not know the entire truth,” spat Jongin. He was sure that if Kylan knew why Adrian had killed his mother, he would find it in his heart to forgive his father.

“My doors are open,” Aeyr then announced, and it sounded like a challenge. “Tell him I look forward to our meeting.”

Jongin, with a thick sob in his throat, took one last look at Kylan and the strange boy, Nix, before he closed his eyes and let himself be drawn back to reality.

He was met with the pitch blackness of midnight when his eyes flitted open. He realized that he was shaking like a leaf under the cloak. His fingertips were numb, and his lips were chapped. He could not feel his nose either.

Sitting up, he carefully pushed himself up to his feet, wandered back into the cave. “He knows,” Jongin said when he found Rakar, still fiddling with the panel.

Rakar turned around with an arched brow. “ _Who_ knows? What does he know?”

Jongin jumped with a start when Adrian burst into the room with his hands and jaw clenched. He did not spare Jongin a single glance as he shoved past him.

Jongin felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

“How much longer?” he asked Rakar through his teeth. Jongin briefly surveyed the holes Adrian had burned into his shirt and moved closer to the man.

“ _Adrian_ ,” he called in a small, diffident whisper. He raised a hand to touch Adrian’s arm but quickly let it fall back to his side when Adrian blenched away from him with hostility.

“We’re good to go,” said Rakar. “If you are done flaming.”

Adrian pinned him with a fierce glare.

“Right,” Rakar let out. “Not in the mood to kid. Understood. Just step into the centre over there. And we’ll activate the Gateway.”

Adrian grabbed his battleaxe that was still stuck in the wall he had left it in as he stomped over to the centre of the room.

“Jongin,” called Rakar. “Are you ready?”

In the midst of all the maelstrom, Jongin had completely forgotten about the fact that he was about to travel to another realm. With Adrian.

But this was something he needed to do. For Kylan’s sake. And for the sake of this realm.

If Adrian defeated Aeyr, the realm could be saved from Aeyr’s destruction. Kylan would not grow up to be Aeyr’s monster.

He sucked in a deep breath and nodded his head. “I am ready,” he said, glancing over to Adrian.

“Go ahead,” said Rakar, beckoning at the steel plate that had replaced the old activator. Jongin placed his hand on the plate and let the god within him flow through for one more time.

All at once, the gemstones lit up, illumining the entire room.

“Good luck,” Rakar told Jongin, clapping a hand on Jongin’s shoulder. “Everything will work out, Jongin.”

As much as Jongin wanted to believe him, he knew that everything had ended between him and Adrian.

He turned around and walked toward the centre of the room where Adrian was standing. The man neither moved nor let his eyes wander. Jongin felt his throat tighten painfully.

“Ready?” asked Rakar.

Jongin squinted at the rays that shot out of the gemstones in the walls and met in a single point, forming the Gateway at once. It was made of light, like the doorways in Jongin’s dreams.

“Think of your realm and step in,” said Rakar.

Adrian held the battleaxe in a tighter grip and took a step forward and into the Gateway. Jongin promptly followed with his heart in his mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

# Quest Six

**Homecoming.**

The Gateway took them to another dimension, as soon as they crossed the gate of light the gemstones had forged. There was no wind here. No echoes. No sunlight. Nothing. It resembled a path up a mountain, but other than the path, there was nothing. If one was not careful enough, they could fall off the edges. No one knew what lay beneath or what would happen if they fell off the edges. No one ever tried to. The gate for the other realm should appear before them at any moment now.

Adrian kept moving forward. Jongin treaded after him, maintaining a safe distance between them. Part of him wanted to break the silence, so that he could ask Adrian about what to expect at his realm. But he knew the last thing Adrian wanted to do right now was acknowledge his existence and entertain his questions.

There was no way that Jongin could make this right. He had betrayed the man, and Adrian was not going to forgive him. And he had no reason to. He did not think twice when he swung the battleaxe at Jongin. That was how betrayed and enraged he must have felt. A rage like that could not be extinguished with a simple, though heartfelt, apology.

But he needed to understand that Jongin had renounced godship, just the way he had. In a sense, they were the same. Neither of them wanted to be a god. Perhaps Jongin should have told Adrian the truth about himself the instant he realized that he was developing feelings for the man. He had demanded the truth from Adrian, hadn’t he? He had led Adrian into a false sense of security, knowing darn well that Adrian mistrusted gods decidedly.

Perhaps Adrian had hoped for something simpler. Something earthier. After all of the trouble the gods had brought to him, it was understandable that he wanted nothing to do with them, especially one that was closely related to those who were took his son with the intention of turning him into a monster that would destroy a realm.

If he were in Adrian’s shoes, he was not sure that he would be able to forgive himself either.

When he gazed up at the faint purple canvas above, it reminded him of the twilight sky that was anticipating an impending rainfall.

* * *

Adrian had a brief recollection of the place. He remembered traversing this path when he first activated the Gateway from his realm. There was just the one path, making it impossible for one to stray from it. There was nothing but bottomless abyss on either side of the path.

His hand was fisted tightly around the handle of his battleaxe, and his jaw was set just as tight. He constantly reminded himself to not to let his impulse get the best of him again. He needed the witch.

The witch. It was not all that he was, was he?

A god. He was a god.

It had taken Adrian a while to tamp down his rage. But even then, he had not been able to recover from the blow of the betrayal. Every part of him was still vibrating with wrath, hungering to get even. It was not the first time he had been betrayed by a god. And he doubted that it would ever end.

But this was different. He had trusted Jongin. For the first time in forever, he had trusted someone. In the past, there was only one he had ever truly trusted. And it was Baashere—the epitome of loyalty. But Jongin had lulled Adrian into a false sense of security and betrayed him. He had begun to feel something so strong for the boy that he was unable to wrap his head around the fact that he had been lied to point-blank.

Jongin had had many opportunities to tell Adrian the truth. Would Adrian have been okay with the truth if the witch had come forth with it sooner? Perhaps not. But he would not have felt like he was stabbed in the back.

Now, it was all too little too late. He could never find it in his heart to trust Jongin again.

He had been right before. All that he touched turned to dust. He was to never find peace. This was his curse. The penance for his sins and his father’s. Just when he began to believe that he could find that peace one day through Jongin, everything went to hell.

There was little that Adrian could do right now to reign in his thirst to burst into a rampage.

Would he have actually killed Jongin in that moment?

No. Even if Rakar had not tried to stop him, Adrian did not think that he would have let his battleaxe go all the way through Jongin’s neck. Even though he had been devastated and raving mad in that fit of pique, he would not have been able to hack the boy he had come to trust and love down like it was nothing.

He would have stopped himself. He knew that.

But he never wanted Jongin to know that. He wanted the witch to believe that his betrayal was worth being killed for. That it was not something that Adrian was willing to tolerate. And if repeated, he would die imminently.

Once he had had a chance to recollect himself a little, he had realized that Jongin had done him more favours than he could count on his journey. To pay off that debt, he decided that he would let the witch live.

But there would be nothing else left between them.

Whatever bridges that had been built were now burned. Adrian’s head was clearer, however. He realized that he should not have let himself be distracted. Kylan should be his one and only priority.

He tried to think about something other than Jongin’s presence that was following him in a strained silence. Even though he knew what lay on the other side of the Gateway, it had been several years since he had fled it, so he was not sure how much might have changed. Things would have changed, no doubt. Adrian had left his realm inciting one final chaos after all. He knew that he would not be welcome there. As a matter of fact, he expected immediate resistance upon his arrival. He would be challenged. He would have to face inevitable obstructions. He would have to find a way to either evade them or appease those who stood in the way. He could not fight them all. He neither possessed the strength nor the leisure of time for that at the moment.

The gods from his realm were nothing like Vorrg and Ialdir. Or even Jongin. They relied on their sheer strength, not trickeries, magic and nature. And those who relied on strength were often victorious because they were rarely distracted. They would not be easy to battle now that Adrian had lost his touch in the field of battle. He would not be able to take on all of them at once.

They would not be very happy about Adrian bringing along an outsider either. But they would have to get past Adrian to get to Jongin.

Adrian would protect him at all costs, not because he cared for the witch, but because he still needed him. There was simply no other reason for Adrian to worry about Jongin’s welfare. All bridges were burned down.

Even so, Adrian’s chest continued to ache. He had been wrong to start hoping for the life he had yearned for. But he had. He had unconsciously begun to look forward to a life with Jongin in it, even though he had tried to convince himself that they would part ways eventually.

He admitted to himself that he felt so hurt and devastated by Jongin’s betrayal because he had fallen for the boy deeper than he thought he would fall for anyone. But he reminded himself of the fact that it was just a trick by another lying, scheming god.

What could Jongin get out of hiding the truth, Adrian wondered. But then he realized that he did not want to know Jongin’s reasons. It would make no difference. The witch was in fact one of the old gods, and that alone was reason enough for Adrian to shun him and steer clear of him.

If there was one thing that was absolutely certain, it was the fact that those gods were never up to any good, and they had plenty of tricks up their sleeves.

In spite of that, a small stubborn part of Adrian’s heart continued to foolishly believe that Jongin’s intentions had been and were true and good, and that in his heart of hearts, the witch had not meant to hurt Adrian.

But Jongin could have told him the truth. For keeping Adrian in the dark for so long, he must pay.

His train of thoughts was snagged by the door that appeared before him, halting his angry strides. He stopped and swallowed, gawking at the door, forged from nothing but lucent white light. It blocked the path.

Jongin caught up to him, staring over Adrian’s shoulder at the door, too. He seemed entranced when Adrian glanced back to look at him. He quickly turned away, jaw set tight.

This was it. There was no going back. Adrian could not afford to go back now. He needed all the help he could get to defeat Aeyr and retrieve his son. Even if Kylan would not forgive him for his past sins, Adrian owed it to himself to save his son. Kylan would never become anyone’s ‘monster’. Adrian would simply not allow it for as long as he lived.

“Adrian,” Jongin called all of a sudden, and his voice was not followed by an echo. Adrian nearly looked at him, but he managed to keep his eyes to himself. “I—”

“Do not,” Adrian spat gruffly through his clenched teeth. Jongin fell silent at once. “You and I… have nothing more to discuss. For all your favours, I will let you live. But do not mistake my indebtedness for mercy. I hold no such sentiments towards you anymore.”

The witch did not say anything else as he turned his face away, lips quivering.

Adrian felt a sharp pain in his chest, too. He decided not to give it any more thought as he took a step forward and traversed the curtain of light. For a few minutes, there was nothing but darkness. He could feel his feet. Actually, he could feel nothing. This had to be the realm between realms. He was not sure where Jongin was either.

Then a small light in his eyeline caught his attention. He reached for it. All at once, he was thrown out of the dark, empty space. Behind him, he felt the witch crash against his back, staggering him forward. Once he had caught himself, he caught Jongin next, hand grabbing the witch’s arm before he could tumble to the ground.

The sudden brightness that flooded their senses blinded them for a moment. Adrian winced and squinted as he realized his booted feet were standing on solid ground. Not just any ground. Floor made of exquisite marble, glinting against the crystal chandeliers that adorned the ceilings of the room.

“Where… are we?” asked Jongin, sounding a little out of breath. He was gawking at the monumental statues on either side of the hall that bordered the pathway to the doors.

“The Hall of the Greats,” said Adrian. It might not mean much to Jongin, but this very room triggered countless memories of the past for Adrian. All gods who had made a name for themselves landed a statue of their own in here. Make no mistake, Adrian had made a name for himself, all right. But he was not revered. He was feared. Nevertheless, he was one of the greatest of all.

* * *

Jongin could not bring himself to breathe. It was overwhelming. He had never seen such grandeur, not even at Thyldir’s palace. This was not at all what he had imagined Adrian’s realm to be. There was no modesty, no earthiness. There were only extravagance and splendour. He smelled smoke and artificial fragrances wafting from the incense sticks sitting on the mantels There was not a single spot in his own realm that was half as grand as this hall. The statues that were erect in two perfect lines on either side of the pathway were colossal. The ceiling must be scraping the skies. The pathway was made of clear glass, and underneath the panes of glass, flowers and shimmering white gems were buried. The walls were impeccably white, not a crevice in sight.

“Is this… a temple?” asked Jongin, unable to help his curiosity. He was not sure if the curiosity were not laced with some fear.

“No,” said Adrian. “It’s the home of the gods.”

With that, he descended the stairs. Jongin paused to glance back at the archway made of gold and diamonds. It was embedded in the wall, sporting countless inscriptions. The Gateway was accessed with a mechanism much different from the one in Jongin’s realm. This looked much more sophisticated and mechanical. The Gateway was not hidden away in the mountains, in some dank cave. This was a… grand show.

“A home of the gods is technically a temple,” Jongin said at length, hurrying after Adrian.

“Mortals do not visit this place with offerings.” He surprisingly did not sound annoyed when he said it.

Jongin gasped when his feet touched the pathway. It was cold. Colder than the loam in a winter forest. He had never walked on glass before.

Adrian did not wait for him. Jongin tried to hurry up, but he was once again distracted by the statues made of marble and ebony. They looked more like warriors than gods. Their heavy armours and showy weapons frightened Jongin.

“Are these… gods alive?”

“Most of them are.”

What about the rest, Jongin wondered. Half of the statues were of goddesses. In his own realm, most goddesses were not warriors. Aalitra was trained in combat, but she had never participated in any war. But these goddesses, even as statues, stood as tall and regal as the gods. Equals, if not better.

His eyes desperately looked for Adrian’s statue. When his eyes found it, his heart dropped to his stomach. He stilled altogether in his tracks, his jaw falling slack.

Like the hall, there was nothing modest about Adrian’s statue. His magnificent armour was chiselled with painstaking details and precision. His headgear flaunted two large horns and a piece that covered the lower part of his face. In his hand, there was the Godsbane, sculpted to perfection. And at his side stood a majestic beast, armoured, fangs bared, its ferocity sheening in its stone eyes. A tiger. One that was as large as a grizzly.

“This is you,” he exhaled, stopping before the statue. Adrian halted and glanced back at him. Jongin was not sure if he were more amazed or horrified.

“How did you… know?” he asked.

“The statue,” Jongin said, turning to face Adrian with a frown. “It’s the one… your son has. His wooden toy that you carved for him.”

Adrian gazed into his eyes, looking more pained than he had when he found out about Jongin’s betrayal. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the doors that banged open.

Jongin jumped with a start as a woman barged in, followed by three men. Gods, no doubt.

She was dressed in all sorts of opulence. She had pearls hanging from the small braids in her hair. Her tunic was like nothing Jongin had ever seen in his own realm. It was red, adorned with black and gold sashes and embroideries. And she wore a mantle that flowed from her shoulders all the way down to the floor. Unlike the women in Jongin’s realm, she was clad in trousers, which were also detailed with all kinds of grandiosity. Her hazel brown hair was mostly loose with a few braids in them along with glinting gold pins and pearls. Her cheeks were glistening with gold powder, and her lips were painted red. A greatsword hung at her hip, its pommel made of gold and rubies. She looked radiant enough to be a goddess, but her stance was clearly made for a warrior.

Her green eyes were filled with shock and terror when they darted to Adrian. The men who accompanied her froze as well, eyes bulging out.

“It is you,” she let out, her shocked expression hardening into something like anger and disgust. She drew her sword and pointed it to Adrian. “How dare you return?”

Adrian did not look as alarmed as he should be. Jongin, on the other hand, was about to fall to his knees. He did not know if his magic and powers would be of any use here. Magic, not so much. His godly powers? Possibly.

“Valda,” Adrian said in a calm, unwavering voice.

The woman, Valda, held her sword higher, the scowl on her face deepening. “You activated the Gateway again,” she spat furiously. “Why have you returned?”

“I want no trouble,” said Adrian. He had never sounded so level-headed. It really seemed like he was trying to avoid any trouble.

“After all that you’ve done!” shouted Valda, and her roar carried all across the hall. Adrian did not blink. “You killed our father. And you fled. You abandoned your duties and fled to another realm! Why have you come crawling back now?”

Jongin turned to Adrian. _Killed his father…?_

 _Our_ father? Valda was Adrian’s sister? Adrian had a family?

It was all too much at once. Jongin’s head was spinning.

“The responsibility suits _you_ much better,” said Adrian, beckoning at Valda with his battleaxe. “Rules and rights were never a good colour on me. And as for our father, do not expect any apology from me. He deserved what he got.”

Valda lowered her sword and snarled at Adrian. “You made a mistake coming back here.” She stopped briefly and glanced at Jongin. Her eyebrows furrowed into a harder frown. “And you brought a pest with you.”

“A pest?” Jongin rasped and quickly snapped his mouth shut again.

“Seize them both,” she told the men at her sides. “And call for an urgent conclave with the others forthwith.” She pinned Adrian with a merciless glower. “It is time you paid for your crimes, Adrian.”

Adrian scoffed then. “Crimes? I did you all a favour.”

“I am not talking about your killing of our father,” she spat. “You had a duty to your name, which you relinquished. You refused to face the consequences of your actions. And look at you now.”

She mustered him from head to feet.

“Downgraded from the magnificence you once were,” she said, and it was harsh. Jongin supposed, compared all the splendour they were surrounded with, he and Adrian must look like they had been dragged in the dirt for days on end. “Pitiful.”

“I did not come here for a fight, Valda,” said Adrian. “Let me pass, and there will be no bloodshed.”

“The only blood that will be spilling is yours, Adrian. You have managed to anger every last one of us. Your brothers, your sisters. You’d consider yourself lucky if you get to keep your head by the end of the day.”

She nodded her head at the other men, who hesitated to approach Adrian.

“He knows better than to pick a fight he cannot win,” she told them. Jongin was not sure if it were confidence or arrogance that he heard in her tone. “Look at him! Being away from his home, his realm had taken a toll on his strength. He would not be able to take on all of us. He would not get out of here alive.”

How many of them were there, Jongin wondered.

But Adrian certainly did not look like he wanted to pick a fight at the moment. Otherwise, he already would have. He never shied away from the fights he knew he would win. Jongin had learned that about him.

He let one of the men pry the battleaxe out of his hand. “Walk,” another ordered, but he quickly fell silent when Adrian shot him a look. The third man stepped toward Jongin, whose heart was galloping in trepidation.

“This one reeks of foreign land,” he said, grimacing at Jongin. “And… something else like raccoon shit.”

Jongin wanted to fight him. He looked to Adrian to see if the man would protest. But he did nothing. So, Jongin decided that the wise thing to do now was follow Adrian’s lead. He let himself be shoved toward the doors.

As Adrian was ushered past Valda, he stopped to glare at her. “You forget who I am, Valda,” he told her, voice dropping to a menace. For a fraction of a second, Valda’s face wilted. But she quickly regained her composure and glared back.

“No,” she said. “I remember all too well. And I am going to remind you who you are, Adrian. Welcome home.”

As they were dragged out of the hall, Jongin tried to keep his head down. He did not want to get on Valda’s bad side, not any more than he already had. She was a lot taller than him. Almost as tall as Adrian. And she wielded that greatsword with the mastery of an experienced warrior. Jongin both feared her and admired her. Given that she’d spare his life in the end.

Exiting the hall, they were led out to a corridor. A gust of wind nearly made Jongin choke. He inhaled dust and smoke. The arid air was nothing like the one in his realm. Every breath felt polluted. The heat of the wind made Jongin’s skin burn a little and his throat dry.

He came to a standstill in the corridor when he was brought outside. He was not sure how big this place was, but he was surrounded by buildings topped with spires. Well-crafted architectures everywhere he turned. In the middle of the buildings and towers, there was an open rectangular courtyard. It looked much like a palace, but only ten times larger and more extravagant.

When he gazed up at the sky, he found the sun rapidly setting in the horizon. He was overcome by the sudden curiosity to explore the realm he had stepped into. There was a whole other world for him to explore. Were there forests? What were the people like? Were there witches here? Were they feared by the people?

Adrian had mentioned that the mortal men and gods lived together here. Did the gods act as kings and queens to the mortals, then?

He heard a constant racket in the distance. It was unlike his realm, where silence presided over everything in the mortal world. At least until the old gods decided to send a plague of banes to destroy it. Even so, the Red Woods had always been tranquil and quiet. Jongin was not used to such a relentless noise in the background.

“Get moving!” Jongin was nudged forward by one of the guards.

Adrian turned his head halfway around to look at him. The distress must have been apparent in Jongin’s face.

Jongin surveyed the guards’ uniform as he followed them into another corridor before he was steered back inside. Even the guards were dressed lavishly in velvet, their liveries made of gold.

The stairs they were led down through an oubliette were carpeted. The fuzz on it tickled the sole of Jongin’s feet. There was not much light down here. The torches on the walls allowed some light. There were pillars everywhere Jongin turned. And cells. They were all empty.

“In here,” said one of the guards, holding open a cell gate.

Jongin arched an eyebrow. Did they expect these little prison cells to hold Adrian in?

But Adrian did not object as he stepped into the cell and cocked his head at the guard, who swallowed hard.

“No hard feelings,” the guard said with a tremor in his voice.

Adrian snorted, rolling his eyes. Jongin entered the cell and frowned as the guards locked them in the cell.

As soon as they were gone, Jongin turned to Adrian and blinked. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Do they think this cell can keep you in?”

“No,” said Adrian, plumping to a seat on the ground, leaning his back against the wall. “They don’t.”

Jongin was confused. “Then… why?”

“Delaying the inevitable,” replied Adrian.

“Are you not going to break out of here?”

“I would not get past the main gates.” He closed his eyes and rested his head back on the wall. “Giving them what they want will get me out of here faster than a scuffle would. There are over sixty gods in this place. I cannot fight them all at once.”

Jongin turned to the metal bars and wrapped his hands around them. “So, you are… surrendering.”

Adrian did not answer.

Jongin pulled away from the gate and took a few steps closer to Adrian. “Adrian…”

“I do not want to hear it.”

Jongin dropped to his knees and lowered his head. “I never—”

Adrian’s eyes flashed open then, and they were glowering fiercely at Jongin. “I said, I do not want to hear it,” he said through his teeth.

Jongin exhaled shakily with an ache in his chest. “Would you really… have killed me back there?”

Adrian stared at him unblinkingly, his jaw set tight. “I would have.”

Every fibre of Jongin’s existence disbelieved him because he was not looking Jongin in the eye. “I did not want to betray you, Adrian. I tried to—”

“I do not care,” he said, closing his eyes again. “Not anymore. You and I have nothing left.”

Jongin drew a deep breath. “I saw Kylan,” he said.

Adrian opened his eyes once again. “What?”

“In my… dreams. It’s complicated. But I found him. With Aeyr. He is keeping Kylan under. But he is not harmed.”

Adrian’s breathing shallowed then. “Y-You… saw him?”

Jongin nodded. “Aeyr has no intention to harm him. He needs the boy. Desperately. And that means he would go to any measure to keep Kylan. You should be cautious.”

He watched Adrian ball his hands into fists. “Why haven’t you told me this sooner?”

“You would not listen.”

Gnashing his teeth, Adrian rose from the ground and started pacing the cell restlessly. Jongin had a million questions for Adrian about the realm. But he knew this was not the time to voice them.

So, he asked another instead.

“Do you truly believe that I am one of them?”

Adrian stopped and looked at him.

Jongin stood up. “I had renounced them,” he said, his voice breaking. “I did not want to be a part of their war. I would not play a hand in the destruction of a realm. Adrian, I… I am not like them.”

Adrian did not respond as he continued to stare at Jongin with an unreadable expression.

Jongin tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke. “I know that I am in the wrong for not having told you about my true identity sooner. But I was afraid of… losing you. I knew that you would hate me if you knew, and I was not sure if I could handle that. And I can’t.” He swallowed the sob that rose in his throat. “I don’t want to be forgotten by you. Even the thought of that… pains me. I know that I had been selfish by keeping the truth from you. I did not want to betray you. I just… I just did not know how to… tell you. You’d have despised me. Like you do now.”

Adrian turned away then, hands clenched at his sides, chest heaving heavily.

“I am not apologizing,” Jongin then added. “I know that it would make no difference to you. I just want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you or betray you. I… I lo—”

“Don’t,” Adrian growled at him. Jongin could no longer push down the misery that made his eyes well up with tears. “That is enough. It does not matter what your reasons were. I do not want anything to do with you or your gods once we are done.”

Jongin nodded his head before hanging it. “I understand,” he let out, choking on the words. He had been reluctant to tell Adrian the truth before because he was afraid of Adrian detesting him. But Adrian detested him all the same now, anyway.

He would help Adrian defeat Aeyr. For Kylan. For the sake of the realm. He would do everything in his power for that. He hoped that before their adventure ended, his show would close. That way, he would not have to conceive an eternity resenting himself. Perhaps this was his true calling. His destiny had always been to help Adrian save his son and the realm in the process.

Once that was done and taken care of, Jongin’s fate no longer mattered.

* * *

# Quest Seven

**Return of the God of War.**

“Why do you care about the realm?” Adrian asked from where he was sitting on the other side of the cell, across Jongin.

Jongin was surprised by Adrian’s question. He had not said anything in a long time that Jongin had begun to think that Adrian would never talk to him again.

“What?” he let out. For the past few hours, he had been trying to conjure a spell or two. Nothing worked. His magic did not work in this realm, which was reasonable since he drew his magic from the nature in his realm.

Adrian cleared his throat before speaking again. “The old gods,” he said. “are hell-bent on destroying the realm and rebuilding it from a seed. Why are you different from them?”

There was a thick hint of distrust in his tone.

“I thought you did not care anymore,” said Jongin.

“I am counting the reasons to keep you alive on this trip.”

“And being the only key back home isn’t good enough?”

Adrian was silent for a moment, as though cat had gotten his tongue. Then in a gruff voice, he said, “You said that you renounced the old gods and their ways. Every last one of them that had crossed my path had tried to kill me. So, why are you so different from the rest of them? Or is it all a ploy of yours?”

Jongin scoffed despite himself. “Only someone as cynical and hard-bitten as you would rather believe that one would put himself in various dangers, including facing deadly monsters, travelling across realms, and antagonizing the old gods for a _ploy_ than to believe that he had done it all out of kindness and affection.”

“You barely knew me or Kylan when you offered your help.”

“When I agreed to help you, I did it only for the boy,” admitted Jongin. “But I stayed for _you_.”

Adrian fell silent.

“But it isn’t only for you and the boy,” Jongin added. “There is some selfishness in my actions. I want the realm to be spared from the gods’ plans for it. And if the only way to secure the realm’s future is by helping you take down Aeyr and prevent the gods from using your son as a weapon, then so be it. Colour me eager.”

Jongin sat up straighter and waited for Adrian’s response. When he received none, he continued.

“I agree,” he said. “There needn’t be anything left for you and me when both our objectives have been fulfilled.”

“Your gods will find another way to destroy the realm,” Adrian told him. Jongin felt his heart sink. “Something tells me stopping Aeyr will not quench their thirst for destruction of the realm. It will happen. Perhaps not immediately. But the end of days is coming for your realm, and there is little you will be able to do.”

There was something about the way Adrian said it that churned Jongin’s stomach. “You… don’t plan on staying,” he let out as the fact slowly sank in.

Adrian was quiet, confirming Jongin’s theory.

“What?” Jongin rose to his knees. “Where would you go?”

“I would need your help one last time,” said Adrian. So, that was why he was even talking to Jongin. “To leave your realm.”

“I do not understand.”

“I need you to open the Gateway one last time after I have rescued my son.”

Jongin took in a trembling breath. “You and Kylan are not going to stay?”

“I do not think I will have a choice.”

Before Jongin could ask what that meant, they were interrupted by the guards, who unlocked the cell and opened it. “The conclave is ready for you,” one of them said.

Adrian huffed heavily and pushed himself up to his feet. “Let’s do it, then.”

Jongin scrambled up and hurried after him. “The conclave?”

“Do not say a word when we’re there,” said Adrian. “if you want to stay alive.”

Jongin did not think that it mattered anymore. At this point, Adrian probably wanted to keep Jongin alive more than the latter did.

“You need to put these on,” the guard said, raising the golden shackles in his trembling hands. “Orders.”

Adrian cocked an eyebrow at him. “If it will ease your minds,” he said, holding out his fisted hands. The guard reluctantly locked the shackles around Adrian’s wrists.

The guards, all five of them, armed and armoured, were shaking in their pants as Adrian strode past them. “Wait,” two of them said in unison.

“I know where the gathering hall is,” he told them and proceeded toward the stairs. Jongin followed him in silence. Adrian caught him staring at the bejewelled, golden shackles around his wrists. As secure and strong as they looked, could they restrain Adrian? “No,” he said, as though he had heard Jongin’s thoughts. “They would not hold me.”

Then why even do it, Jongin wondered. Was it a gesture to humiliate Adrian?

The guards pursued them in a hurry. They were gods, too. But clearly not some of the stronger ones. Perhaps demigods. Children of the demigods even.

The way to the hall where the conclave was being held was brimming with wonders and embellishments that had Jongin reeling. The hallways were home to countless statues and portraits. Vases of gold and silver adorned the sideboards. Most of the floors were carpeted. Crystal chandeliers hung from the muraled ceilings. The brilliance of the place was blinding.

There was not a soul in the hallways, however. Jongin wondered if they had all gathered at the conclave.

And he was right.

When they arrived at the hall, the doors swung open for them to enter. Jongin froze behind Adrian, gawking at the incredible sight before him. His breath hitched, and every muscle in his body numbed.

Men and women, dressed in all sorts of finery, stood in the hall, bearing all kinds of weapons. Most of them Jongin could not even name. They were all as big as Adrian, powerfully built. Even the women.

Jongin was briefly overwhelmed by the godliness that flooded the hall.

There were gasps as shock rolled over the gathering of gods and goddesses.

“It _is_ him,” one of them announced sharply. “He’s returned!”

Adrian stepped into the room.

Valda shoved past the others and another god promptly followed her. “Adrian,” he growled, his dark eyes flaring at Adrian. “Is that you, brother?”

“Since when do you call me ‘brother’, Damen?” scoffed Adrian. “Last time I checked you drove your spear through my midriff during one of our duels.”

Six more stepped forward, pinning Adrian with similar looks of surprise. “You activated the Gateway,” said a woman. Jongin supposed she was related to Adrian, too. She had Valda’s eyes. “Why have you returned after all this time?”

None looked pleased with Adrian’s return. And every one of them was on their guard. They were prepared for a fight. Such was Adrian’s reputation, Jongin supposed.

“You left!” another man roared. “You caused a chaos and left, you bastard!”

“Isn’t that what I do?” said Adrian. “Cause chaos? Is that not what our father raised me for, Farogon?”

“The divine decree says that if you take a crowned god by blood,” spat Valda, shoulders squared. “you take his place.”

“I did not want it,” said Adrian nonchalantly. He seemed calm. Jongin, on the other hand, was awaiting an impending doom.

“You should have thought about that before you killed our father in one of your little fits!” shouted Damen. Jongin could not see the resemblance in any of Adrian’s siblings. They had to be half-siblings. “You know that you cannot just reject the decree. The realm has been in chaos for aeons because of you.”

“What will you have me do, Damen?” spat Adrian. “I was the God of War. Would you want me to rule over the gods and men? There will be nothing but constant war.”

“It does not matter,” said another man, whose name Jongin had yet to learn. “You never were one to think of the consequences of your actions.”

“I did not come here to have a big family reunion,” Adrian said at length, exhaling exasperatedly. “I am in a hurry.” He glanced around the hall momentarily and frowned, as though he had not found what he was looking for.

“Well, that’s just unfortunate,” said Farogon. “If you refuse to take responsibility for your actions even now, then it is time you received your punishment for them.”

Adrian’s expression hardened then. His eyes narrowed and flaunted a flicker of fire. His shackled hands were wound in tight, threatful fists.

“Listen to me,” Adrian said, but the others drew their weapons instead. Jongin gasped lightly, eyes widening. This could not be happening, could it?

Valda approached Adrian with her sword drawn. “On your knees,” she ordered. Adrian stood his ground, jaw clenched. Jongin watched his breathing grow rapidly laborious. The veins on the back of his hands were protruding now and so were the ones on the sides of his neck. “There is no reason to make this difficult, Adrian. The right to rule is now yours. If I take you down, then it is mine. Solves both of our problems, doesn’t it?”

Jongin was appalled by the whole situation. What sort of a sister would have the heart to kill her own brother? In fact, no one wanted to stop what was about to happen. If Adrian had truly killed his father, he too must lack the familial sentiment as his siblings. But perhaps he had changed. He loved his son, didn’t he? He knew the value of a family that loved him. And Kylan was the one who loved him the most.

Adrian’s skin was sizzling now. He raised his head to glance at the others, who were wielding their weapons, ready to strike if Adrian so much as turned a hair.

Adrian’s composure was swiftly melting away as Valda took another step closer, holding him at her sword’s point.

“Perhaps a fight is the only way out of here after all,” Adrian muttered, and it took Jongin a moment to realize that the man was talking to him.

The shackles around his wrists hissed with smoke as Adrian’s body burned up. He lowered his head with his eyes clenched for a moment. When they flung open again, they were flaming fiercely on fire. Some gasped, others readied themselves.

Jongin stepped away, heart nearly jumping out of his chest, as Adrian burst into a roar, snapping the chain of his shackles in half before the golden cuffs clamped around his wrists melted and ran down his arms, dripping on the floor.

Growling, he then dropped low, driving a fist into the ground, crevicing the marble floor. The thundering sound nearly deafened Jongin for a moment. And everything else that happened next put him a momentary trance of disbelief and shock.

On his knee and with his fist still plunged into the ground, Adrian’s clothes simply went up in flames, turning into nothing but mere ashes that slid off his skin, which now resembled a flowing magma. All of him was on fire. He was untouchable.

Valda swung her sword at him, even though she looked less convinced than she had been a while ago. Adrian caught the blade in a hand, and in his grip, the blade simply melted into silvery liquid.

Valda stepped back then, huffing and puffing. No one moved as Adrian summoned his armour that instantly rallied for him. Jongin could do nothing but stare in complete awe now. Not even his magic could do something so marvellous and extraordinary. The gods of this realm had it made. Their mechanisms and powers were something else.

Adrian stayed still as the black velvet spun around his body, forging an undershirt and a pair of trousers as it touched him. In the blink of an eye, out of nowhere, a heavy armour locked itself around him, part after part. It was all made of gold and black. What sort of metal, Jongin did not know. But it was not steel or iron. It was something that was made to withstand Adrian’s heat. Rakar’s armour for Adrian was nothing compared to this magnificence. This… was made for a god. Not just a warrior.

When Adrian rose again, he was fully armoured. The black headgear sported two long golden horns. The breastplate of the armour was onyx black and bore the golden crest of a tiger.

Jongin did not realize that he had stopped breathing until he began to suffocate.

Adrian’s eyes continued to blaze. He raised an open hand, and out of thin air, the Godsbane materialized in it. Gripping it, he faced the other gods in the room.

This was who he truly was. And Jongin was unable to believe his eyes. Adrian was not a diamond in the rough. He was the embodiment of transcendence and glory. Jongin felt utterly foolish to have thought that he stood a chance with a god as magnificent as Adrian.

And he felt even more foolish to have believed that Adrian would be a monster in his god form. He was remarkable. Beautiful, even though he was the epitome of war.

“It is you against the rest of us, Adrian,” said Damen. “It does not have to be this way.”

“I think you have made it rather clear that it does,” spat Adrian in a voice much deeper and hoarser than his usual one. Jongin was truly invisible among them. He was small and unremarkable. No one would even notice him. He could not stand out because he was simply too plain to spot. Even as a god, Jongin was no match to anyone in here. It made him feel small, insignificant.

Then he realized that he had, somehow, managed to gain the trust of a man so outstanding. He wanted to kick himself for losing that trust. Adrian had liked the simple, earthy witch of the woods. Jongin had ruined it all.

“You asked for it, brother,” said Farogon, brandishing his halberd.

The metal mouthguard locked over Adrian’s lower face then as he lifted his own battleaxe. Jongin was caught in the middle, too. He would not walk out of here alive.

Damen brought a hand up and summoned a sphere of water. Another goddess stepped forward, holding her hands out to put her long metal claws on display. There was one that was floating on a cloud of black smoke. His eyes were lined with black. His hair hung in thick tufts. Another carried a bow and a quiver of green arrows. Her skin was yellow. Farogon spread out a pair of leathery wings as he took his position. Valda forged another greatsword from nothing and wielded it in her hand.

“Get behind me,” Adrian said through his mouthguard, and Jongin realized that he was talking to him.

“Are you going to fight them?” asked Jongin, blood draining from his face.

Adrian did not answer, but he swung the battleaxe in his hand once, and the fire in his eyes burned brighter.

They were interrupted by the deafening roar that thundered into the hall then. All retreated, gasping, as the striped beast vaulted from the crowd and landed before Adrian with a booming thud, snarling and growling at the other gods menacingly, warning them to stay back.

Jongin nearly lost his footing and dropped to the floor on his rump as he jumped back with a start, eyes bulging out at the enormous tiger that was pacing restlessly, ears sticking back, fangs bared. The size of its one paw was twice the size of Jongin’s face. Like Adrian, it was armoured in black and gold.

Adrian’s mouthguard slid open then. “Baashere,” he rasped.

The beast stopped and turned to him. Almost instantly, the hostility in its mien disappeared, replaced by a look of familiarity and longing. It rose to its hindlegs and pounced on Adrian, nudging its nose against Adrian’s face, as though to sniff him thoroughly. Jongin blinked when he thought he heard the tiger whimper in excitement.

“How did he get out of his cage?!” yapped Farogon.

The beast pulled away from Adrian to growl at the other god.

“Stand down, boy,” Adrian told the tiger and faced the others. “We can either fight, or we can come to a resolution. There is no doubt that I cannot fight against all of you at once. But if you kill me, I’d be sent to the underworld. And I have made my way out of there before. I will do it again. And where will that bring us?”

The others exchanged a glance with each other.

“What is it that you want from me?” Adrian asked then. “To accept the consequences of my murdering of our father?”

“To obey the divine decree,” spat Valda. “To take your father’s place. _You_ took his blood. _You_ succeed him.”

Adrian was silent for a moment. It was still unclear to Jongin as to what all of this entailed. But he had some idea. And he began to understand what Adrian had meant earlier.

He was going to accept his responsibility. He would return home with Kylan. He would leave Jongin’s realm for good.

“Very well,” said Adrian.

Jongin wanted to protest. He knew that this was not what Adrian had wanted. After all that had happened, the man deserved to find the peace he desired. He should not have to return to something he had once forsaken.

But he did not say anything. He knew that it was not his place. And Adrian would not appreciate it.

Everyone else seemed as surprised as Jongin was.

“What?” said one of the other gods.

“I will succeed my father,” Adrian announced. Everyone lowered their weapons then. “I promise to return and keep my word.”

“Return?” said Valda. “You’re leaving again?”

“I have to,” said Adrian. “My son… is taken from me. I have to retrieve him.”

“Your… son?” the woman with the deep yellow skin said. Her hair was as green as moss.

“We are not obligated to aid you, Adrian,” said Farogon. “There will be no favours exchanged. You are the one who owes us.”

“I am not asking for any of _your_ favours,” Adrian spat.

“That’s enough,” said Valda. “We trust you to keep your word, Adrian.”

Adrian bowed his head.

Valda looked much calmer now that she had been appeased by Adrian’s promise. She sheathed her sword and said, “Come. Let’s give you a proper welcome.”

* * *

As they made their way through the hallway, Jongin maintained a safe distance between him and the beast, Baashere. It had not noticed him so far. It was far too occupied with Adrian.

“You can eat and rest while you’re here,” Valda said as she walked them down the hallway.

“I do not have the time,” said Adrian. “Where is Evzenius?”

“He has been gone for moons, I’m afraid.”

Jongin swallowed when the tiger finally turned in his way and looked at him curiously. Adrian’s brows furrowed. “Where is he?”

“Trapped. In Y’risa’s caves.”

“Fuck,” Adrian exhaled, gritting his teeth. “What was he doing looking for Y’risa?”

“What do you think?” Valda scoffed. Adrian rolled his eyes. “He took a wager thinking that he could charm the monstrous seductress. Now, our little philanderer is rotting in those caves.”

Adrian grunted and turned on his heel.

“Where are you going?” asked Valda.

“I am going to get him back. I need him. He is the only one who would help me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Valda, crossing her arms over her chest. “Remember how you took his betrothed to your bed and later told him that her performance was _below average_ at best?”

“He owes me a favour,” said Adrian.

“Hmm,” hummed Valda before she glanced at Jongin with an arched brow. “We’ve never been properly introduced.”

Jongin swallowed. He looked at Adrian, as though to tacitly confirm that it was okay for him to speak now.

“He is the key to the Gateway,” Adrian said before Jongin could introduce himself.

Valda looked amused, her eyes falling on Jongin’s bare feet. “What raggedy realm did you land in, Adrian?”

“They aren’t as advanced as us,” grumbled Adrian, and Jongin scowled at him.

“Well, at least he’s cute,” she said. Jongin blushed, regardless of how much he tried not to. “Your beast could use him as a toothpick once it’s done with him.”

Jongin gasped quietly, looking over at Baashere, who was still staring at him.

“You look tired and famished,” Valda then said to Jongin. She was right. He was dead on his feet. “You could stay here while my brother is away.”

“No,” Adrian said. “He goes where I go.”

That might just be the most romantic and kindest thing Adrian had ever said about Jongin.

“Very well.” Valda ushered them further down the hall. “But you should nourish yourselves before you leave. You do not want to venture Y’risa’s caves without enough rest.”

She led them to a room. Jongin’s jaw dropped when the doors were opened to reveal a luxurious room, fully furnished with the biggest bed he had ever seen, covered in silks and velvets, maroon drapes that hung by the balcony doors, a couple of dressers, a few sideboards and nightstands, chests and trunks.

“You can rest here,” Valda told Jongin. “I will have some food and wine sent over forthwith. And you,” she said, turning to Adrian. “Come with me. We still have much to discuss.”

“Valda, I told you, I don’t have the time.”

“Then make time. I want to hear more about your son. Farogon might not want to help. But I could.”

Adrian blinked. “You would do that?”

“It depends on your side of the story. Shall we?”

As she walked away, Jongin continued to gawk at the room. He felt a searing hot hand wrap around his arm. Hissing, he leaped and flinched away from the touch.

Adrian looked at him guiltily. “I forgot,” he said, staring at his palm for a moment. The fire in his eyes had died, though. “Stay put. Do not leave this room.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jongin asked before Adrian could walk away. “There must be another way, Adrian.”

Adrian lowered his gaze to the ground. “I cannot… run from my past. I tried. I failed.”

“Adrian…” He had a hard time talking to the man as equals when Adrian looked so preeminent. Not that he did not before, but now, it was all too much. Jongin could never ask for his love, not when he knew the sort of greatness Adrian was meant for.

“For my son,” said Adrian before he clenched his jaw and went after Valda.

Jongin proceeded into the room and did not bother to wait for the food and wine he was promised as he collapsed onto the feather mattress. He had not slept on anything so soft in forever. Sleep came to him easily that evening.

When he roused again, he found Adrian perched at the foot of the bed without his headgear, shoulders slouched, head hung. He was not burning as hot anymore, but he was still hot enough for his heat to radiate through the air around him. The room was not completely dark, thanks to the few candles lit on the sideboards.


	4. Chapter 4

# Quest Eight

**Playing with Fire.**

Sitting up, Jongin realized that Adrian was petting the tiger that was resting at his feet, its tail flailing here and there in elation and bliss. Its tail probably harboured more strength than Jongin’s entire body did. It was the size of his arm. The beast chuffed happily with its eyes closed, its breathing erratic, as Adrian ran his fingers through its thick coat of fur. Somehow, Adrian’s touch did not burn the animal.

“You do not burn him?” Jongin asked, his voice still hoarse from his sleep. Adrian must have known that he was up because he did not react with surprise to Jongin’s question.

“There are many of this realm that my touch does not burn,” said Adrian in a low voice without turning around to look at Jongin.

“Oh.” Jongin hugged his knees to his chest and glanced at the silver platter that was set down on the nightstand. It bore a plate of sliced dark meat, a bowl of exotic berries of vivid colours, and a heel of soft bread that smelled like butter. They were accompanied by a decanter of violet velvets. His stomach grumbled.

He grabbed the bowl of berries and the bread first. Then he picked up the plate of meat.

“Have you eaten any?” he asked, placing the plate on the bed, sliding it toward Adrian.

“It’s for you,” muttered Adrian.

“I don’t eat meat,” said Jongin.

Adrian shifted his weight on the mattress then and took the plate. He did not eat the hunks of meat, however. He tossed them over to the tiger, who was delighted by the treat.

“What did you say his name was?” asked Jongin, taking a small bite of the bread. It was still warm and oh-so soft. He had not had a bread so good since he renounced his godship to live in the woods.

“Baashere,” said Adrian. There was something about the way he spoke. Was it fatigue? Was it despondence? He had never sounded so subdued and gentle. The unexpected benignity in his voice was both soothing and alarming.

Jongin popped one of the red berries into his mouth. He winced at the sharp and lurid sour taste that exploded in his mouth. It was quickly chased by a subtly sweet aftertaste.

“We can go now if you want,” said Jongin. “I am sorry I fell asleep.”

Adrian did not reply.

“You have gone days without sleep, too.” Jongin rose from the bed and filled the winecup with some wine. He then walked over to Adrian and held the winecup out. “Here.”

Much to his surprise, Adrian did not refuse. He looked up at Jongin and held his gaze for a moment too long before he accepted the cup. When their fingers brushed, Jongin tried not to yank his hand away.

Adrian downed the drink in a single gulp. When Jongin picked up another winecup, Adrian rose from his seat and walked over to him, saying, “You should drink that.”

Jongin blinked. “Why not?”

“It’s not meant for… you. One small sip and you will have keeled over.” He took the decanter from Jongin’s hand and drank straight from it. Jongin watched the thick protrusion in Adrian’s throat bob as he swallowed the wine in large drafts.

“So, this is what your people drink,” remarked Jongin.

“It is not strong enough for my liking,” replied Adrian, placing the decanter back on the nightstand. He then stopped to face Jongin, who was marvelling at his armour. “What is it?”

Jongin lifted his gaze from the crest on Adrian’s breastplate and met Adrian’s narrowed eyes. “Your armour… Actually, everything,” he let out in a sigh. “This is who you really are.”

“A tamped-down version of who I really am,” said Adrian.

“No,” said Jongin. “This. All of this. This grandeur. This magnificence. Even as a god, I do not match you.” He smiled weakly, shaking his head. “Not that it matters anymore, does it?”

Adrian continued to stare at him. Jongin turned away and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“You will never be able to find what you longed for,” he said at length. “I understand that you are running out of options. Kylan needs you. But how could you… go on living a life you do not want?”

Adrian fisted his hands. “Are you living the life you wanted?”

The question cut through Jongin’s flesh. He thought about it for a moment. He had renounced his godship for a life he thought he wanted. A life where he would be free. Free to live, to love, to explore, to go on endless adventures. But he still felt trapped somehow. The people for whom he had forsaken his true identity shunned him, feared him, despised him. He had no friends, excepting the creatures of the woods. Day after day, he was afraid of becoming meaningless. He was not free.

He looked up at Adrian, who was still standing by the nightstand. “No,” he said at last, admitting something he never thought he would. “I will never live the life I wanted.”

“Sacrifices must be made for the ones you love,” Adrian said, unlocking his armour. As it clanged on the floor, Adrian rolled his shoulders, unlacing the top of his black velvety shirt. He then carded his fingers through his hair and walked over to the balcony.

Jongin stood up to follow him. He stopped for a moment to regard the tiger resting on the ground and carefully slinked around it. He stilled once more when Baashere raised his head and huffed at him, pinning him with a hungry look. He then nudged his head towards Jongin, as though he were asking for a petting. Jongin refused, taking a step back. Baashere rose to his paws then and annoyedly turned away from Jongin before he made his way out of the room. The door opened on its own for the tiger and shut itself once he was out.

Sighing in relief, Jongin joined Adrian at the balcony. As he leaned over the railing, he gazed upon the view spread out before him. Beneath the star-spangled stygian night sky and beyond the parapets of towers stood a vast strip of land with countless straggles of buildings bestrewn across it. The streets were lit with bright lanterns. Jongin had not come across a human civilization so big. Past the city was a range of rock mountains. Not a copse of trees in sight. It should have unnerved and distressed him, but all that he could see before him was endless opportunities for new adventures. What lay beyond the mountains, he wondered.

“So, this is your world,” he let out.

“A very small fraction of it,” said Adrian.

Jongin glanced at him. The warm wind gently ruffled Adrian’s hair that was long overdue for a cut. “What is it like for gods to live among men?”

Adrian gripped the top of the railing, eyes fixated on the land below. “We rarely live in harmony,” he said. “There is always someone who is overcome by greed.”

“And was it your job to… eliminate those who do?”

“My job was to do my father’s bidding. I eradicated his enemies for him. And there were many.”

Jongin swallowed before asking the next question. “Why… did you kill your father?”

Adrian closed his eyes momentarily. “Because I had to.”

“You _had_ to?”

When his eyes flashed open, they were flaming a little. “He took away everything from me. He never… saw me as anything more than a weapon. I was made the God of War. He turned me into a monster. The cycle must end with me. My son will not… carry my sins. History must not repeat itself. I wanted to do better as a father.”

Jongin took a step closer to him. “You _are_ better.”

Adrian shook his head. “I do not even qualify to be a father.”

“Only a father as good as you would go to such extents for his son,” said Jongin. “And believe me, I have my own share of father issues. He can be a cock, too.”

The fire in Adrian’s eyes died. A very faint smirk quirked a corner of his lips up. “I’ve never heard you use such profanities before.”

Jongin shrugged. “I am full of surprises, aren’t I?”

Adrian glanced away, leaning forward with his elbows on the railing. “That you are.”

“Not as many as you, though.”

“I am not worthy of your reverence.”

Jongin straightened up. “Why do you love to cast yourself in the worst light possible? You are a good man. And a good father. I have seen it.”

Adrian looked at him again. “A good man? I almost killed you.”

“You had your reasons.” Jongin lowered his head in embarrassment.

Adrian faced him once more. “Why?” he asked.

Jongin blinked at him. “What?”

“Why did you not… do anything? Why did you not try to stop me?”

Jongin felt a sharp ache in his chest. He had to say it now. He might live a life ruled by fear—a fear for the old gods, a fear of loneliness, a fear of fading into nothingness, a fear of losing the realm to chaos—forever, but he had to be brave just this once. He would be turned down. His heart would be broken once again. But he had to say it.

“Because I am in love with you, Adrian,” he said in a weak whisper, keeping his gaze low. He wanted to look into Adrian’s eyes as he said it, but he was not that brave. Not after everything that had happened. He did not have the right to say it. He had no right at all on Adrian. Not even the right to love him.

When Adrian did not respond, Jongin turned away and wandered back into the room with his hands trembling and lips quivering. He never should have said anything. Mustering the courage to say what was in his heart was easy. What was actually difficult was finding the courage to cope with the disappointment that followed.

“Jongin,” Adrian called after him.

Jongin stopped and turned around to face him with a miserable frown. “Forget that I said anything,” he blurted out with a lump in his throat. “Please.”

“Jongin,” he rasped again and caught Jongin’s arm before he could walk away. Though his touch scorched Jongin, he did not blench away or pull his arm back. He endured the heat and distracted himself with the roughness of Adrian’s callused hand instead. Adrian did not withdraw his hand immediately, as though he wanted to see just how much Jongin could stand it. It felt like touching a hot stone or the dying embers on a hearth. “I am not… good with my words.”

He released Jongin’s arm and dithered for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck.

“But I should apologize,” he said at length. Jongin stared at him confusedly. “I felt… betrayed. Beyond reason. I tried to understand why I had felt so betrayed. Why it had hurt me so much that I could not contain my rage. I keep… evading the true answer. I… cannot anymore.”

Jongin rarely saw this diffident side of Adrian. And to see it now, when he had reassumed his godship, made Jongin realize that this was the most vulnerable he was ever going to be able to see Adrian.

“I do not hate you,” said Adrian. Jongin dropped his head, heart sinking. It was not what he had wanted to hear, but he supposed it was something. “Not because you are… were a god. I hate myself for… not being able to detest you more. I have detested gods my entire life. Their lies. Their fallacies. I rued my existence for having been born as one of them. But you… you are a beacon of sincerity. You haven’t been completely honest with me, but you have not betrayed me. Everything you have done since the day we met has been in my best interest and Kylan’s. I would not have made it this far without you. Perhaps I felt so betrayed because… I fell for you. Someone I should not have fallen for.”

“Adrian,” Jongin croaked out, his breath hitching. “Please, don’t say that. I know that I am not… what you thought I was. But don’t I deserve to be loved, too? Am I truly so repulsive that you think I am someone unworthy of your affection?”

He could not help the tears that welled up in his eyes then.

Adrian frowned at him. “That—”

“If you do not want to love someone like me, then it is in your right. It is your choice. But you do not get to say that I am someone you _shouldn’t_ love. Because I do believe that I deserve to be loved. I have done nothing wrong. I did not ask to be born as a god, just like you didn’t. I hid the truth from you because I was afraid of losing you. I do not share half your resplendence, but I love you unconditionally. I never wished ill upon you. So, do not tell me that I cannot be loved by you.”

He turned his back to Adrian to walk away. He needed to get out of here before he could break down in tears. The last thing he needed right now was to fall apart in Adrian’s presence.

Before he could walk away, however, Adrian seized his arm once more and spun him around. Cupping the sides of Jongin’s face in his burning hands, he then leaned down and crushed Jongin’s lips under his.

Jongin was quick to pull away, his hands rising to Adrian’s chest. The kiss had been too brief for Jongin even feel the heat of Adrian’s mouth. With his heart pounding ferociously, he turned on his heel, wanting to get out of there before the situation could worsen. His fingers that got caught in the laces of Adrian’s shirt yanked them loose.

“Jongin,” Adrian groaned and drew Jongin back into his arms. He was hot to the touch, but neither of them seemed to care about it at the moment.

“Let go,” Jongin whimpered, eyes brimming with tears. He was trembling, faltering.

“I don’t want to,” said Adrian in the soberest voice Jongin had ever heard. He sounded serious and honest. His steely eyes were steady. It was hard to look away from them. It was hard to fight against Adrian’s grip. Jongin was not sure if he even wanted to.

He felt all fight desert his body. He clenched his eyes tightly and rose to stand on the tip of his toes before he touched Adrian’s lips with his own.

He never wanted to pull away, even though the kiss burned him and suffocated him. He relished the subtle pain. His body healed fast against the burns, not because of magic, but because of his immortality.

As his hands clung to Adrian’s shirt, Adrian wound his arms around his waist and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid past Jongin’s lips and pressed against Jongin’s own tongue.

Everything was hot. Jongin did not know if he could bear it for long, but he was determined to keep holding onto Adrian for as long as he could.

He gasped lightly when Adrian caught his lower lip between his teeth and tugged at it gently before sucking it until it felt raw and tender. Jongin draped his arms around the man’s shoulders and kissed him back with all his strength. Everywhere that Adrian’s beard scraped felt warm and tingly on his face. Could Adrian feel the warmth of Jongin’s own lips? Or were they cool in comparison?

Adrian’s breath smelled of wine, and Jongin’s of berries. The kiss was all too overwhelming. And yet, neither of them could pull away. The longing, the desperation, the want were all too clear now. Walls were crumbling. Restraints were coming loose. Guards were lowered.

And then Adrian broke the kiss and took a step back, panting and licking his lips. Jongin tried not to stagger or let his knees buckle, but he was having a hard time to stop his head from spinning.

“We shouldn’t,” Adrian let out, frowning. “We cannot… do this.”

Jongin said nothing. Partly because he could not find his voice. He agreed with Adrian otherwise. He had wanted to before. He had wanted it more than anything. To share just a brief but meaningful moment with the man he loved. To finally forfeit the virtue he had been holding on for so long to a man whom he believed was worthy and deserving.

But now, the circumstances had changed. There was simply no hope left for them.

Jongin wanted to tell him that they should not go any further. But he was more selfish than he thought he was. He wanted to lunge at Adrian and pull him back for another kiss.

But then Adrian made the move.

He lurched forward and took hold of Jongin again, one hand grabbing his waist, the other curling around the back of Jongin’s head, fingers clutching at his hair.

Jongin’s breath caught, and his body fell limp against Adrian’s scalding body as he opened his mouth and kissed Adrian feverishly. They stumbled over to the nightstand, where Adrian promptly hoisted Jongin up and seated him on it, knocking the vase, platter, and wine decanter to the floor. His hands continued to grip the back of Jongin’s thighs while Jongin locked his arms around Adrian’s neck.

He wished that Adrian would never stop. He did not care even if the heat killed him in that moment. He had never done anything like this, and he supposed it had been a long time Adrian had, too. Still, nothing about Adrian’s touch or kisses was inexperienced. Jongin, on the other hand, fumbled a lot. He struggled to breathe, even though it was not his topmost priority right now.

Adrian pressed against Jongin’s crotch between his thighs, stealing whatever breath that was left in Jongin’s lungs. He was hard and scorching hot. Jongin wanted to rip Adrian’s clothes off and feel him raw. Adrian must have had the same hunger for Jongin because his hands were belligerently tugging at Jongin’s tunic, threatening to shred it to pieces.

Jongin unlocked their lips momentarily to take the tunic off before Adrian could tear it apart. It was his only tunic; he could not afford to have it ruined. Tossing it to the floor, he grabbed Adrian by the back of his bullneck and yanked him back down for a kiss. The kiss was a mix of a well-choreographed dance and an ill-strategized battle, which Jongin consistently lost.

Without breaking the kiss, Adrian lifted Jongin off the nightstand, hands cupping the back of his thighs, and bore him to the nearby bed.

It was hard for Jongin to understand that this was actually happening. And it was nothing like he had ever thought it would be. Everything burned. Neither of them wanted to take it slow in that moment. Nothing about it was as gentle as Jongin had initially wanted it to be. No. This was better. The reality was so much better than his fantasies.

He loved Adrian’s strong arms that were wrapped around him. He loved running his fingers along the flexed muscles of Adrian’s arms and back. He loved the way his lips burned against Adrian’s. All of it was staggeringly overwhelming. The heat, the passion, the lust. And it had barely even begun.

Adrian pulled back once he had dropped Jongin on the bed to reach a hand back to grab the collar of his shirt by the nape of his neck. He then yanked the shirt over his head and hurled it to the floor before he paused to survey the sight that was laid out before him on the bed as he knelt between Jongin’s legs.

Jongin brought a hand up to walk it down Adrian’s haired, heaving chest, all the way to the rack of solid muscles of his abdomen. His hot skin parched Jongin’s throat. Adrian stared at his bare body as though he were counting the beads of sweat that had formed on Jongin’s belly and chest.

“You are,” Adrian then let out in a hoarse whisper. “stunning.”

Jongin could not help but turn red at the compliment, or rather the _overture._ He shuddered when Adrian grabbed the sides of his waist and bent forward, leaning his head down.

Jongin curled his swollen lower lip between his teeth and bit on it as Adrian placed a soft kiss on his belly, lips brushing against the little rivulets of sweat collected there. A gasp broke from Jongin’s mouth when Adrian sank his teeth into the skin beneath the navel, nipping it gently.

“Adrian,” Jongin whimpered, hand fisting around Adrian’s hair. Kissing the spot his teeth had just bruised, Adrian drew his hands along Jongin’s thighs. His lips left a trail of blaze everywhere they touched on Jongin’s abdomen.

Fighting for air, Jongin traced the taut muscles on Adrian’s back, hands gliding past the thick shoulder blades, as Adrian rose to Jongin’s chest, peppering it with blistering kisses. Jongin sucked in a sharp breath, body arching into Adrian’s, when Adrian latched his mouth around one of the nipples.

Jongin’s eyes rolled back. He wasn’t sure if it were supposed to feel this good or if it were just Adrian’s scalding tongue that made Jongin’s body writhe in pleasure and pain. He dug his fingernails into Adrian’s shoulders as a weak moan escaped his lips. Adrian grabbed one of Jongin’s arms then and pinned it to the mattress near his head. With his hand clamped around Jongin’s wrist, he hungrily lapped the nipple that instantly pebbled under the heat and strength of his tongue.

When Jongin’s hips involuntarily rose to grind against Adrian’s, a guttural groan broke from the man’s throat. With one hand gripped around Jongin’s wrist, he brought the other to a side of Jongin’s waist to slam it back down to the mattress. Jongin nearly whined out of desperation.

“Don’t rile me up,” Adrian growled, lifting his head to glare into Jongin’s eyes. His grip around Jongin’s wrist tightened, as a small fire began to flicker in the black of his eyes. Jongin was suddenly overcome by an imprudent and possibly suicidal curiosity to see just what might happen if he did rile Adrian up.

He brought his free hand to Adrian’s crotch and palmed the bulge over the thick fabric of his trousers. Adrian clenched his jaw and eyes, his breathing labouring palpably.

“Take me,” Jongin spat at him almost challengingly, propping himself up on an elbow. He was not even sure if he could take it, but he wanted to see Adrian try. He wanted to see the man lower the last of his guard and concede defeat completely. Though Jongin supposed conceding defeat in bed was a victory in its own way.

Adrian’s eyes flew open, flaring in flames. His hand shot up to Jongin’s neck and slammed him against the bed. Bowing his head, he smashed their mouths together and kissed Jongin mercilessly. He burned a little hotter than he did a moment ago, but it was not unbearable. Not yet. Though all of Jongin’s skin was glistening with sweat.

Adrian did not retrieve his hand from Jongin’s neck as he lowered his hips to crash against Jongin’s and started to grind them together. Jongin bit Adrian’s lips a few times, gasping for breath, as the friction between their crotches drove him to the edge of madness. Adrian’s chest burned against his own as he wrapped his legs around Adrian’s waist. He would not mind if he were crushed under Adrian’s massive, strong body that instant. He wanted more.

Releasing Jongin’s neck and wrist, Adrian then knelt up and hastily tugged at the gold laces of his trousers with one hand while the other was splayed onto Jongin’s belly, as though to hold him down. Just as the fire in his eyes began to wane, Jongin shoved Adrian’s hand off of him. Almost instantly, Adrian’s glaring eyes blazed up once more as Jongin rose to his knees. Defying the tacit commands for submission he was receiving from Adrian’s vicious scowl, Jongin undid the laces of Adrian’s trousers, their lips almost touching. Jongin panted against Adrian’s mouth, letting his breath graze the other man’s lips teasingly. The fire in Adrian’s eyes softened, his hand snaking around a corner of Jongin’s waist. His fingers eagerly slid past the waistband of Jongin’s trousers and stroked the protruding tailbone.

When Adrian leaned in for a kiss, Jongin pulled back. Adrian’s jaw tightened visibly and the fire that was kindled in his eyes in that moment was as fierce as the one Jongin had seen when Adrian had reassumed his godship in the midst of the other gods earlier.

He grabbed the back of Jongin’s head, fingers violently clutching at the locks of Jongin’s hair, and yanked him forward for a kiss. It was sloppy and aggressive, and hotter than it had ever been. With one hand fisting Jongin’s hair and the other gripping his jaw, Adrian kissed him deeply, tongue licking the inside of Jongin’s mouth relentlessly.

He then shoved Jongin to lie on the bed and spat, “Do you have a death wish?”

Jongin brought a foot up to Adrian’s chest then to stop him when he began to lean forward. His chest scorched the sole of Jongin’s feet a little. Growling, Adrian took hold of the shin of Jongin’s leg and removed his foot from his chest before yanking him by the shin, throwing the leg over his shoulder as he leaned down and crashed his lips against a side of Jongin’s neck, his blazing eyes shut.

While filling the neck with kisses and bites, Adrian slipped a hand into his unlaced trousers and fisted his cock before rubbing it against Jongin’s ass over the pants.

Jongin stilled all of a sudden, as the reality started to sink in.

Adrian brought his head up and kissed Jongin on the mouth briefly before he said, “Go ahead. Provoke me some more.”

Jongin exhaled shakily, covered in sweat and already panting in exhaustion. He pushed himself up and kissed Adrian’s bearded chin, softly, before kissing his lower lip. The angry tautness in Adrian’s body melted at once, and he lowered Jongin’s leg from his shoulder.

He slipped a hand under Jongin’s head and cradled it tenderly as he kissed Jongin back passionately. He walked his other hand down Jongin’s belly and loosened the laces of Jongin’s trousers.

He paused and pulled back to look at Jongin. There were still some flickers of fire in his eyes. He licked his lips, which Jongin had bitten a few times, and stared at him, as though he were waiting to see if Jongin would object.

“You can… touch me,” Jongin whispered breathlessly, giving Adrian the consent he was seeking.

Adrian reclaimed Jongin’s lips for another kiss before he turned Jongin around to lie on his stomach.

Jongin buried his face into the mattress as a new flood of embarrassment drowned him. Over the years, he had learned how intimacy like this between men worked. But he had never had a first-hand experience to know what it was really like. He knew it might hurt, but he did not know how much it would hurt. He knew it would be pleasurable, but he was not sure if the pleasure would transcend the pain. And with Adrian, everything came in tenfold.

He bit into the silk sheets of the bed as Adrian pelted his back with fiery kisses. He then hooked his fingers into the waistband of Jongin’s trousers and slowly lowered them as he made his way down to the small of Jongin’s back. His beard grazed the tailbone there, and Jongin shivered.

He lifted his hips off the mattress as Adrian drew the trousers down his thighs. He did not dare say a word in that moment. He did not think he even had the courage to look back at Adrian.

Once he was completely bare, except for the talisman that remained around his neck, he continued to keep his face down on the bed, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. And then he felt Adrian’s chest lean against his back as he bent forward, grabbing Jongin’s hands and pinning them to the bed.

He gasped, head craning up, lungs sobbing for air, as Adrian pressed his swollen, pulsating member against the cleft of Jongin’s ass. “Adrian,” he moaned, arching his head back to rest it against the man’s shoulder. “I want you… inside me.”

Adrian drove his hips back and forth, grinding his cock against Jongin’s ass while his mouth left a trail of kisses along Jongin’s neck and shoulder.

He pulled away abruptly and climbed out of the bed. Jongin turned onto his back and watched Adrian get rid of his boots and trousers before he pried the nightstand’s drawer open with more force than necessary. Fishing out a canister of what seemed like oil, he returned to the bed and positioned himself on his knees between Jongin’s legs.

Jongin flushed red, suddenly aware of how painstaking Adrian’s stare was. His eyes continued to blaze in flames as they mustered Jongin’s bare body inch by inch.

“Don’t… look at me… like that,” Jongin let out, looking away with some of his hair curtaining his eyes.

“Why?” said Adrian with a great sobriety in his voice. The fire in his eyes died then. “You look beautiful.”

Jongin took a shaky breath and rose to his knees. He took a moment to marvel at Adrian’s own body. He swallowed hard, realizing once more that he, even as a god, would never match Adrian’s magnificence. His diffidence must have shown in his eyes because Adrian cupped his face in his hands and kissed him reassuringly.

Jongin wrapped his arms around Adrian’s body and sank his fingernails into his shoulder blades as he let himself burn in the kiss. So, this was what it meant to give himself to another person. To entrust someone else with himself. This intimacy was what the union of two bodies entailed.

Adrian retrieved another canister from the nightstand and uncorked it with his teeth before taking a sip of its content. Jongin blinked at him curiously. And then Adrian kissed him again, expertly parting Jongin’s lips with his tongue to let the sweet liquid slide into his mouth. Jongin swallowed, though he had no idea what it was. It tasted like thin, watered down nectar.

“Turn around,” Adrian then ordered in a rough whisper, his lips still touching Jongin’s.

Jongin turned at once and reached back to hold onto a side of Adrian’s neck as Adrian held him close to his chest, fingers gripping Jongin’s hips. Then coaxing Jongin to bend, he shifted his weight on the bed behind Jongin. Pressing his forehead into the mattress, Jongin drew a deep breath as Adrian uncorked the other canister and dribbled a generous amount of oil onto his palm before applying it to his cock.

Jongin fisted his hands around the sheets when he felt Adrian’s oiled fingers slide along the cleft of his ass and stroke the puckered rim of muscle. He grabbed Jongin by the scruff of his neck with one hand while the other stroked the opening. When he slid a finger in, Jongin gasped and clenched his eyes tightly.

It did not hurt as he had expected it to. In fact, some of his nerves calmed, and his insides relaxed around Adrian’s finger. A wave of calmness rolled over his body. Was it the liquid Adrian had made him drink? It wasn’t like alcohol. His head remained clear. His body felt fine. No symptom of inebriation. It must be a simple to ease the discomfort, then.

“Are you all right?” Adrian asked. Jongin nodded. It did not hurt, but it still felt strange. “Stop me if I’m hurting you.”

Jongin highly doubted that he would stop Adrian even if the man ripped him apart right now.

Adrian withdrew his finger and straightened up to rub his cockhead against Jongin’s opening. It burned, but it did not hurt Jongin. It felt strangely good.

Adrian plopped him around to lie on his back again and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips. Jongin wrapped his limbs around the man at once.

“I’m ready,” he moaned into Adrian’s mouth. “Please. Just…”

Adrian did not need to be told twice. He slowly slid the head of his cock into Jongin and paused to let the latter get used to it for a few moments.

Bathed in sweat, Jongin breathed laboriously, his body burning against Adrian. Now, his insides were, too. It felt as though Adrian were lighting a fire deep within him.

“Jongin,” Adrian called, frowning.

“I’m all right,” Jongin croaked out immediately. “Don’t stop.”

Adrian slid all the way in then. Jongin could do nothing but cling onto the man helplessly, and it felt like embracing fire. As Adrian began to thrust, Jongin clenched his watery eyes and bit into Adrian’s shoulder to muffle his moans and cries. But he eventually did let go and moaned out Adrian’s name as Adrian picked up the pace of his thrusts.

Every time he slammed into Jongin, his cock rammed against a sweet spot that made Jongin see stars at the back of his eyelids.

As he continued to moan loudly, Adrian silenced him with his mouth, kissing him sloppily. The bed, though sturdy, creaked and rocked violently.

By the time they climaxed, Jongin was completely worn and ravaged, his body bearing bruises than a fallen peach. Adrian’s eyes flashed open with fire as he turned Jongin onto his stomach and slid back in as he came, spilling thick threads of white, thrusting into Jongin.

Unable to even move anymore, Jongin collapsed against the bed, facedown, as Adrian filled him with his come. He then fell on top of Jongin, huffing heavily.

Though he burned, Jongin did not pull away. He was too exhausted to do anything. Adrian lazily kissed the back of Jongin’s shoulders as he caught his breath, coming down from his high.

“How could this wear a man out like no battle could,” Adrian breathed out, kissing the nape of Jongin’s neck. He sounded content. Jongin had never heard him sound so gratified. First time for everything, he supposed.

Adrian withdrew in the fullness of time and dropped to the bed beside Jongin, throwing an arm over his forehead. As he lay still, Jongin considered sidling close to him. But it would be impossible to cuddle with Adrian when he was burning this hot.

So, Jongin stayed put, deploring the distance between them. His body quickly healed, much to his dismay. This was the one discomfort he did not mind. In fact, he wanted it to last. He wanted the love marks, the bruises, the burning sensation inside him to last.

He saw Adrian shut his eyes as his breathing steadied. Sitting up, Jongin grabbed the eiderdown and drew it over their spent bodies before settling next to Adrian, as close as he possibly could without touching the other man. He silently watched Adrian fall asleep, trying to ignore the thrumming ache in his lower body. Once Adrian had dozed off, Jongin leaned in and brushed a soft kiss against his cheek before he too drifted off into oblivion.

* * *

He woke up dreading that it had all been a dream. Cracking an eye open, he squinted at the sunlight that flooded the chamber. The smell of sweat and sex was heavy around him, seeped into the sheets he was lying on. Under the soft, flocculent eiderdown, he was unclothed. There were no signs of bruises on his body, however, and his body had completely healed.

He sat up and found the bed empty. Holding the eiderdown to his chest, he glanced around the room. The mornings had never been so warm back in his own realm. He longed for a cold, clean bath.

His heart skipped a beat when he found Adrian on the balcony, leaned over the railing with the tiger at his side. They were both clad in their armours. Grabbing the tunic he had discarded on the floor the previous night, Jongin dressed himself and climbed out of the bed.

Baashere turned his head around and blinked at Jongin lazily. He did not look so ferocious when he was with Adrian. Jongin wondered what great adventures they must have gone on in the past. Adrian clearly did not have many friends, but if the beast was docile enough around him, Adrian must have earned his trust and loyalty. After all, Jongin, of all people, knew that an animal’s loyalty was the sincerest form of loyalty there was.

It was difficult for him to read Baashere, however. He could not tell if the animals of this realm would take the same liking to him as the ones in his own realm did. Well, Baashere had not eaten him so far, had he? Jongin decided that he would make a better effort to warm up to the mighty beast.

As he approached the tiger, he held out a hand. Baashere rose to his paws and strutted over to him. Jongin tried not to flinch as the beast sniffed his hand. He was delighted when Baashere closed his eyes and rubbed a side of his face against the hand. Jongin buried his fingers in the tiger’s thick fur and grinned.

“Baashere,” he whispered and watched the beast’s ears twitch. He wondered if Baashere would let him ride on his back. He had never ridden a bloody tiger before. That would certainly be extraordinary.

Tugging at the hem of his tunic to cover his bare thighs, Jongin neared Adrian. His heart was full for once. Last night, they had crossed the threshold of the highest form of intimacy together. Jongin had thought that all hope was lost for them. But perhaps they could make this work. Perhaps there was a future for them after all. It would not always be easy, but he would take any chance he could get with Adrian.

Being made love to was nothing like Jongin had imagined. The real deal was so much more excruciating and overwhelming. He had been saving himself all these aeons for someone who would deserve him. And to him, no one deserved to take his virtue more than Adrian. He loved Adrian. With all his heart. He was ready to let Adrian kill him. Enduring a few hours of physical pain was nothing compared to that. In all those years, he had come to love just one man. And he wanted to envision a future with that man. Was that too much to ask?

“Adrian?” he called when Adrian would not turn around to acknowledge his presence. Jongin blushed as he closed the distance between them. How did the morning after worked? Should he broach the subject of what had happened between them last night? Should he wait until Adrian brought it up? Should he hug Adrian? Should he say something romantic? Jongin was new at this, and it was all very frustrating, especially when he knew that Adrian had a bit of experience in this arena.

But when Adrian did not respond even after a few minutes, he began to worry. He raised a hand to the back of Adrian’s armour and touched it.

“Adrian?” he tried calling again.

His heart, that was leaping with excitement a while ago, began to sink.

“Won’t you… talk to me?” he asked, a sour lump rising in his throat.

Adrian turned then. He had trimmed his beard, Jongin noticed. And he smelled like wormwood and lye soap. Jongin was suddenly conscious of how messy and filthy he must look.

“Get dressed,” Adrian spat before he brushed past Jongin and strode back inside.

For a brief length, Jongin could not turn a hair. His stomach turned and twisted uncomfortably, and a bitter taste spread in his mouth. He eventually ambled back into the room and stopped Adrian before the man could storm out of there.

“We are leaving?” he asked.

“We are leaving,” Adrian answered gruffly, refusing to meet Jongin’s eyes.

Jongin rubbed his arm awkwardly, swallowing a sob. Had it all been just a dream after all? He wished that it had been. This reality was too painful.

“Adrian,” he muttered shakily. “About… last night—”

“There is nothing to talk about,” Adrian cut him off furiously, sounding like his old self again. Jongin stared at him, turning completely ashen as though he had seen a wraith. “It had all happened in a moment of… weakness. There is no need for us to discuss it.”

The words rang in Jongin’s ears. He was not sure if he wanted to fight, flee or just break down in tears.

He did nothing. He was still and stiff, most of his body numbing almost achingly. His heart, however, was galloping like a maddened horse.

“Are you… embarrassed?” he asked when he could find his voice. Even then, it came out as nothing more than a barely audible whisper. “Of… what we did?”

His vision blurred on account of the tears that began to well up in his eyes.

Adrian gripped his jaw. “We fucked. It does not have to mean anything more than that,” he said through his teeth. “We need to get going.” He did not wait for a response as he hurried out of the room.

Jongin did not shed any tears. He suddenly felt too numb for it. He had dreamed of waking up to a warm embrace, even one that would burn him, and a tender kiss in the arms of the man he loved. He had foolishly believed that it would change everything between them. He was wrong to have hoped.

He should have known that no matter what, they were a dead end.

Misery quickly turned to anger.

* * *

# Quest Nine

**The Seductress Y’risa.**

He knew Evzen from childhood. They had never been friends. Adrian did not make friends. He only made enemies. Evzen was a different case.

For many years, the bastard had relentlessly tried to make show Adrian up. As the God of Strength, Evzenius had always been a little too confident in his own abilities. He was not only confident, he was arrogant, too. There was no challenge too daunting, no battle too hard, no endeavour too daring for him. He was always off saving damsels in distress, showcasing his heroism, showing off his might, chasing skirts, winning wages, being the best damned god everyone wanted him to be.

He had always seen Adrian as the greatest challenge. His need for Adrian’s approval was exhausting when they were children. They trained together most of the days. When they sparred, Evzen always won because Adrian always let him win. He saw no point in defeating Evzen and hurting the bastard’s pride. In fact, Adrian knew that he could play Evzen’s overconfidence to his own advantage one day.

In battle, the gravest mistake would be to underestimate one’s opponent. Evzen, cocky as he was, made that mistake a long time ago.

It was so like him to seek out Y’risa at her den to fuck her in order to win a bet. He never could resist a chance to prove his valour and strength.

“Are you planning on killing Y’risa?” asked Valda as she accompanied Adrian to the gates. “If you do, can you bring me back her head?”

“I am not going to kill her,” said Adrian. “I plan on reasoning with her.”

Valda scoffed. “Good luck with that. She isn’t cursed for no reason.” She stopped and faced Adrian with a heavy sigh. “Do you really believe Evzenius will be able to help you defeat this god who has your son?”

“Yes,” said Adrian. “He is the God of Strength after all. His strength does not dwindle like mine does with age.”

“You are not that old,” she said, running her fingers along Adrian’s jawline. “Though you have gotten quite grey.”

“I could use all the help I can get,” said Adrian. “I do not know what I am up against. I cannot take the chance.”

Valda nodded her head. “When you have rescued Evzen, will you give him a smack on the head on my behalf?”

“I’ll give him two,” said Adrian.

Though he had not received the warmest of welcomes, his half-sister had been a bit more understanding once he had explained his situation. The instant she had heard about Kylan, her cold heart had thawed. As for Adrian’s other brothers and sisters, however, they still refused to talk to him until he had fulfilled his end of the bargain, which was returning to the realm to succeed his dead father.

“We will be waiting here for you and your boy,” said Valda before she turned on her heel and walked away. Adrian sighed and looked over to Jongin, who had not said a word the entire time. He quietly followed after Baashere with his head hung and shoulders slumped.

Adrian had hurt him. He had left Jongin heartbroken this morning. That much was clear to see.

But it had to be done.

When he roused at daybreak, Adrian recovered the lucidity he had momentarily lost the previous night and realized the mistake he had made. He never should have let it happen. He had been carried away in the heat of the moment last night, but in the light of day, it all seemed like a terrible blunder.

He had sworn to hate Jongin and never forgive him. But last night, he had come close to admitting his love for the boy. Then he had manifested it loud and clear by making love to him.

It would hurt them so much more later if he did not put an end to it now. He had already let it get too far. He had not been able to stop himself, no matter how many times he had tried to, last night. Jongin was right there, beautiful and offering himself. Adrian had given in to his impulses. He should have stopped. The morning had come with clarity along with a rush of panic. When he found Jongin sleeping soundly at his side, he nearly lost his wits once more. In spite of the clarity, the lust continued to subsist. A titillated part of him had wanted to shove the eiderdown aside and ravage the boy once more.

As the gates opened, Adrian stroked Baashere’s head. “He will take us to Y’risa’s caverns,” he told Jongin without looking at him.

Baashere lowered himself before Jongin to make it easier for the boy to mount him. Jongin vacantly stared at the tiger without any readable expression on his face. His eyes seemed soulless, and his complexion was sallow. He was refusing to meet Adrian’s gaze, too. There was some hostility in his sudden indifference, Adrian noted.

It was what Adrian had wanted. So, why did it hurt then?

And there were not many things that could hurt Adrian.

Baashere remained still as Jongin climbed onto his back, grappling at the armour that was designed to function as a saddle as well. Adrian swung a leg over Baashere and mounted the beast behind Jongin.

“Hold on to him,” said Adrian. When his hand brushed against Jongin’s arm, the witch flinched away aggressively.

Adrian froze for moment, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t touch me,” Jongin muttered, his voice quavering with anger.

Adrian sucked in a heavy breath before he reached past Jongin and took hold of the two leather reins attached to Baashere’s armour. Jongin hissed exasperatedly at Adrian’s arms that were locked around him.

“Sit still,” Adrian growled with a clenched jaw. Jongin, huffing heavily, stopped wriggling but continued to pant out of frustration. “Go, boy!” Adrian then ordered Baashere, who bolted past the gates.

* * *

Nothing much had changed in the past few years. Valda had told him that there were more mishaps and squabbles among the gods than the mortals. Everything about the realm was as Adrian remembered it. Noisier. He had grown accustomed to the quiet of Jongin’s realm that the cacophony of his own realm was now deafening.

Regaining his god form completely once more felt better than he had thought it would. The fire that coursed through his veins powered and strengthened him. But it was not what he wanted. He would have given anything to return to the peace he had left home for.

He knew what his promise to succeed his father, whom he had killed during a fit of rage, entailed. It meant going back to a life he had never wanted in the first place and dragging his son along. A son would forever have to bear the sins of his father on his shoulders. The cycle would never end.

Every time he thought of Kylan, his chest tightened. And he thought of the boy every waking moment, and he rarely slept any during the night. Last night, however, he had been able to ease his worries for a while and rest. He had even managed to fall asleep. With Jongin in his arms, he was able to forget his grief momentarily.

He looked for any burns or bruises on the boy’s exposed skin but did not find any. Jongin was no longer heaving with rage. He was distracted by his surroundings. There was nothing much to watch. Adrian had not taken the road through the city. He had opted for the one that went around it. It would take them to the rock mountains quicker.

Part of him wished that he could show Jongin more of his realm. It was not the prettiest or the calmest of realms, but it was radically different from Jongin’s. There were many new things to see, to experience. Especially beyond the mountains.

Adrian was having a hard time keeping his eyes from the nape of Jongin’s neck, which he had left countless kisses on the previous night. Jongin blenched every time Adrian’s hot breath grazed it.

* * *

_We fucked. It does not have to mean anything more than that…_

The words continued to resound in Jongin’s head, cutting through his soul. Was that all it was to Adrian? Was it just Jongin who had cooked up all these ideas about it being more than just meaningless sex that had happened ‘ _in a moment of weakness_ ’?

How could Adrian have the heart to do this to him? After Jongin had admitted his love for him? Was he really a heartless, ruthless monster who was incapable of loving Jongin no matter what after all?

The emotional burden was taking its toll on Jongin’s rationality. He wanted to turn back and return to his own realm, to the Red Woods, to his animal friends and put Adrian behind him once and for all. But that would mean he would be washing his hands off Kylan and the one shot the realm had at survival. Why did it matter, anyway? Why should he constantly care about people who had never reciprocated his affection? Except that Kylan did genuinely care for Jongin, even though they barely knew each other.

Everyone else detested him. The people, the gods, his family, and Adrian, too. Perhaps he did not deserve to be loved after all. Perhaps he had been wrong. There was something fundamentally flawed about him that made it impossible for others to love him unconditionally. Witch or god.

Last night, he had been neither. He was simply a boy yearning the touch of the man he loved. Even then, he was undeserving. He would never be good enough.

Both sorrow and rage overcame him then. It was a curious mix of emotions he rarely experienced.

He relinquished his body, his virtue to Adrian last night, only to be tossed aside and insulted when the morning came. He had done nothing wrong, apart from falling for a heartless, self-serving man. All that mattered to Adrian was saving Kylan, and he did not care whom he hurt in the process.

A few moments later, as they arrived at the foot of the rock mountains, another thought came to him. One that knifed his heart.

What if Adrian had done it all to deliberately hurt Jongin and get even with him for his betrayal? Had this all just been a scheme, which Jongin conveniently indulged? Was this how hurt Adrian had been when he found out that Jongin had betrayed his trust?

When Baashere came to a jerky halt, Jongin lurched forward, but Adrian’s hand came to his chest to stop him from being launched off the tiger.

Jongin was quick to slap the man’s hand away.

The air was not as hot near the mountains. But definitely drier. With every inhalation, Jongin sucked in rock dust. Something about the mountains ahead felt macabre, as though the very winds were warning the intruders to turn away.

Adrian dismounted first. Jongin reached out and grabbed onto Baashere’s fur by the scruff. The beast groaned a little when Jongin unintentionally tugged at its fur a little too hard.

“Sorry,” he muttered to the tiger and promptly clambered off it.

“Her lair is this way,” said Adrian, nodding towards the narrow col between the two ridges of the mounts of rock. Jongin silently followed, even though all of him wanted to burst in an outrage.

Baashere sniffed his hand as he strode beside him. Jongin no longer feared the beast, so he let the tiger sniff him. His nose was wet when Jongin’s fingers brushed against it. He had quite a bit of white amid his otherwise black-striped orange coat. And goodness, he had incredibly long whiskers. He must be pretty proud of them.

Jongin had been friends with wolves, bears, and even a domesticated troll. He had never had a tiger friend, though. Especially not one as majestic and huge as Baashere.

“When we encounter Y’risa,” Adrian said at length, his voice echoing all the way up to the ridges. “do not speak.”

“I suppose that is what you always prefer,” Jongin spat, unable to contain the indignation in his chest. “That I never speak.”

Adrian stopped in his tracks and remained still for a few seconds before he finally turned around and pinned Jongin with a harsh glower. How dare he look angry when it was Jongin’s heart that was ripped out and stepped on so carelessly?

For a moment, Jongin thought that Adrian would confront him. But then the man started to turn away.

“If you wanted retaliate for what I had done to you,” Jongin said, anyway. “it would have been easier to just drive an axe through my chest. Of course, after I had helped you save your son.”

Adrian’s eyebrows furrowed deeper. “What are you talking about?”

“You slept with me to get even, did you not?” said Jongin, hands clenched into tight fists. “I had betrayed your trust. And you betrayed mine. So, are we even now?”

Adrian lunged at him too fast for Jongin to even realize what was happening when it happened. His hand gripped around Jongin’s tunic by the chest and yanked him forward. Jongin’s own hands rose to the breastplate of Adrian’s armour as he continued to glare at Adrian, huffing in fury.

“Do you think I am the sort of man who would lay with you for revenge?” Adrian growled, his eyes flaring with fire. “It is your kind that plays such foul tricks. I promised you nothing when I took you to bed. I had neither forced nor coerced you into doing anything with me.”

Jongin met Adrian’s blazing eyes with the same ferocity. “No,” he let out shakily. “You had just exploited my naivety and my love for you. Does that make you feel like a real man?”

The fire in Adrian’s eyes died, and he slowly released Jongin’s tunic before pulling back, his scowl softening to a frown. “It’s better this way,” he said and turned his back to Jongin.

“I will never forgive you for hurting me like this,” muttered Jongin as his hands trembled. Actually, all of him was trembling.

“Good,” said Adrian before he proceeded onwards.

Perhaps it would have been better to have just faded into nothingness than to fall in love. Certainly, dying had to be less excruciating than this.

* * *

The cave did not look much like a cave. The entrance was brightly lit with oil lamps, and a pleasant fragrance wafted out of the cave. It smelled like juniper berries and magnolias, though Jongin doubted that those were what it was.

“Come in,” a woman’s voice that resounded from inside the cave nearly made Jongin jump. It sounded sultry and incredibly suggestive.

Adrian summoned his Godsbane as he entered the cave. The battleaxe materialized in his hand in the blink of an eye. “Y’risa,” he called as he ventured deeper into her lair.

Jongin was in enough pain to enter the cave, too. He decided that he would not mind much if this so-called seductress killed him at the moment. It would put him out of his misery quicker.

“Aaaah,” sang the seductress, her provocative voice now echoing all around Jongin. He wrapped a hand around the talisman from the hex. It had protected him from the Spellsingers. Would the magic work in this realm against the seductress? “Another man. Another god.”

They came to an open space that was poorly lit with a few torches on the walls. Jongin’s eyes instantly darted to the chaise lounge where a scantily dressed woman was seated on the lap of a man. Strings of pearls cascaded down her bare breasts from her neck and disappeared into her mostly see-through skirt. Her hair was as yellow as corn silk, and it was long enough to touch the ground. Her olive skin glistened against light of the torches. Her lips were as red as rubies. And so were her nails, which she was dragging down the man’s chest, her smirking lips brushing against his ear.

Adrian was gawking at her, eyebrows drawn together, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed as they raked the seductress’ curvy body, especially the parts that were uncovered. Jongin gripped his jaw, wanting to smack the man on the back of his head.

He was jealous, of course. Anyone would be. Y’risa was the embodiment of sex. Jongin was just a few lanky limbs in a dirty tunic.

“Evzen,” Adrian said when he managed to snap out of his trance.

Jongin looked back at the man, whose lap the seductress was lounged on. He was as big as Adrian was, broad-shouldered, thick-necked, and heavily built. He was scruffy, a few days old stubble on his jaw. His dark hair, however, was much shorter than Adrian’s, neater too. His eyes, which were fixated on Y’risa’s chest, were a cool shade of blue, contrary to Adrian’s dark ones. Otherwise, they could have easily passed for brothers.

He had his arms around the seductress’ body, his shirt half unlaced, his neck and chest covered in sweat.

“Can’t you see he is busy at the moment?” said Y’risa, drawing her fingers along Evzen’s chin. The man exhaled a shaky breath and brought a hand to a side of Y’risa’s waist. She smiled at him before turning the seductive smile to Adrian. “But you are more than welcome to join us.”

Jongin was invisible to her. Of course. He was unbelievably unextraordinary to the people of this realm, who were all excessively extravagant.

“I’m not so good at sharing, I’m afraid,” said Adrian. Was it a quip or was he being serious? Jongin had half the mind to turn around and leave for good. But the other half wanted to stay and watch how this was going to play out.

Y’risa’s eyes widened with intrigue. “Is that so?” She rose from Evzen’s lap and stood up, her hair flowing down her breasts. “Well, then, I will just have to find a way to devour you two without you having to share.”

She casually checked her long nails as she said that.

_Devour?_

“We are a little thick on the meat,” said Adrian. “You would not want to have an indigestion, do you?”

So, she wanted to eat them? Jongin’s jaw fell slack.

Y’risa laughed. “I like my men thick, anyway.”

“Why haven’t you eaten him yet then?”

Y’risa looked back at Evzen and smirked before she climbed back onto his lap, straddling him. “I wasn’t hungry. So, I wanted to play with him for a while.”

“Well, as much as I would love to leave you two alone,” Adrian sighed. “I need him.”

“Why would I care?” hummed Y’risa as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to Evzen’s cheek. The man did nothing but pant heavily as she toyed with him. He must have been put under a spell.

“I know a few… deserving men you would be interested in,” said Adrian. “If you let him go, I will send them your way.”

“That won’t do,” she replied. “You can take him if you leave a replacement.” She turned her head halfway around to finally look at Jongin. “That one’s all skin and bones. What about the tiger? It looks juicy enough.”

Baashere grunted, flinching back with his ears turning away. He looked up at Adrian worriedly.

“There will be no exchanges of that sort,” Adrian said sternly.

“I know you, Adrian. I know what reputation precedes you,” she chimed, drawing her hair aside before she held onto Evzen’s shoulders and swayed her hips forward, grinding herself against the man’s cock. Evzen raised his hands to her hips and kissed her sternum between her breasts. She grabbed his hair at the back of his head and tugged at it to pull him away. “Behave.”

Adrian drew in a sharp, exasperated breath. “Then you must know what it is like to have the God of War owe you a favour.”

Y’risa froze then. She remained still while Evzen hungrily grappled at her waist. She stood up once more and mustered Adrian from head to feet.

“Really?” she said.

“I could behead you right now and be on my way,” said Adrian. “But I think we could both benefit from a more civil agreement.”

The seductress’ lips curled into a cunning smile. “Very well,” she said. “You can take him away. And we will agree that in return you owe me a good turn.”

Adrian bowed his head. “Anything you want.”

“I will think of something,” she said. She turned back to Evzen and grabbed him by his unlaced shirt before hauling him up to his feet. “I will miss you, you arrogant moron.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him close for a kiss.

When she pulled back, Evzen dropped back to the chaise lounge, clenching his eyes and sucking in a heavy breath. Y’risa winked at Adrian before she disappeared into the darkness of the cave.

“Adrian?” Evzen rasped when he opened his eyes again, his chest heaving laboriously. “Adrian?!”

“Yes, get the fuck up,” Adrian spat at him, marching over to him to yank him up to his feet by the shirt.

Evzen teetered and quickly steadied himself, shaking his head, as though to clear it. “She… Y’risa… I…”

“Almost became her meat of the month,” Adrian grumbled.

Evzen blinked a few times and swallowed, gaping at Adrian. “Wait… You… What are you… How did you…”

“I’ll explain to you on the road,” spat Adrian. “Come.”

Evzen did not move, however. He rubbed his eyes and scrubbed his face, looking bewildered and shocked. “I am so confused. Am I imagining you, too?”

That was when Adrian swung at him and gave him a brutal slap across the face.

Evzen barely staggered, but the blow woke him up. “Holy fuck, what was that for?!” He lunged at Adrian, cocking a fist, ready to strike Adrian back in the head.

Dodging the fist, Adrian shoved Evzen back and scowled at him. “Get a grip, Evzenius,” he growled. “I just saved your sorry ass. Let’s get out of here before I change my mind and throw you to the wolves.”

* * *

“What happened to my horse?” Evzen asked once they had exited the cave. He was perched on a boulder, catching his breath.

“She probably ate it,” said Adrian, crossing his arms over his armoured chest.

Evzen groaned. “I paid a good deal for that stallion.”

“Should have thought about it before you entered her lair thinking you can fuck a maneater.”

Evzen brought his head up and grimaced at Adrian. “Did I?”

Adrian arched an eyebrow. “I doubt it. She is notorious for eating the men she’s slept with.”

“Damn it,” Evzen huffed. “I lost the bet.”

He rubbed his stubbled chin and looked over to Jongin curiously. He mustered Jongin up and down for a moment, clearly confused.

“Who’s that? Reeks of foreign muck,” he said.

Adrian briefly glanced over to Jongin before he returned his attention to Evzenius. Jongin kept his distance from the two men, but he could hear their conversation loud and clear.

“Speaking of bets,” Adrian said. “Do you remember the one you lost a few years ago?”

Evzen’s eyes narrowed then. “I’d rather we don’t speak of it.”

“It’s time for you to pay up,” said Adrian.

Evzen rose to his full height. “You hustled me, Adrian. You cheated.”

“You overplayed your hand and underestimated mine,” said Adrian. “I did not cheat. I was clever enough to use your momentum against you. I would not have come to you if I hadn’t had the need for it.”

Evzen’s expression softened at that. “You _need_ my help?”

“Yes,” Adrian admitted. “You are an idiot and a hopeless philanderer. But you are still physically the strongest god I’ve ever known. I need your help to… defeat a god. Of another realm.”

Something about the way Evzen’s lips stretched into a proud grin unnerved Jongin. He was not only arrogant and confident, he was reckless, too.

“Why didn’t you say so?” he scoffed. “You want me to kick a foreign god’s butt. That I can do. It will be a great addition to the praises and songs sang in my name.”

Adrian rolled his eyes. “I forgot just how insufferable you can be.” He started to walk away. “Let us head back, so that you can grab your things and we can be on our way.”

Evzen nodded his head. “Why do you need to defeat a god of another realm?”

“He took my son.”

Evzen halted, eyes bulging out. “I’m sorry. Your… _son_?”

Adrian did not respond to Evzen’s scepticism.

“Who was mad enough to bear _you_ a child?” Evzen snorted. “Are you married? Where is your wife?”

“Dead.”

“Oh.”

They said nothing more as they made their way down the mountain foot. Evzen eventually turned to Jongin and fixed him with an odd look. Jongin tried to ignore the man, but it was impossible. In broad daylight, Evzen’s eyes were sharper and icier than they had been inside the cave. And they looked at Jongin like they were about to pierce his soul.

“I am Evzenius, by the way,” he introduced himself.

Jongin was in no mood to make friends, but he could never be rude to another person. So, he nodded his head curtly and said, “My name is Jongin.”

“Hmm. Sweet voice,” muttered Evzen, raising a hand to a side of Jongin’s face. “You’ve got a bit of dust there.” Before he could touch Jongin’s cheek, however, Adrian yanked his hand away, scowling.

“Keep your hands to yourself, pal,” he ordered through his grit teeth. Evzen looked surprised at Adrian’s reaction, but he lifted his hands in a truce. Jongin wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and frowned at the soot.

As Evzen and Adrian walked ahead, Baashere fell to Jongin’s side and nudged him gently with his head. He then stopped before Jongin, blocking Jongin’s way, before he lowered himself to the ground.

He wanted Jongin to climb onto his back.

Smiling weakly, Jongin mounted the tiger and let the beast carry him the rest of the way.

* * *

When they had returned, Jongin was escorted to the same room he and Adrian had shared the previous night. Adrian, Evzen and Baashere left him.

Now that he was alone, he curled up on the bed and broke into a few tears. He was not sure if Adrian even deserved those few tears. He felt lonelier than he had ever been all his life in that moment.

He wanted to go home. To his little hovel in the Red Woods. He wanted to be done feeling sorry for himself.

Adrian entered the room several hours later. He stopped when he saw Jongin hurriedly wiping away the tears. His jaw tightened, and he turned his gaze away.

“We are ready to activate the Gateway,” he said in a levelled voice.

Jongin nodded. “All right,” he muttered hoarsely.

“Have you eaten anything?”

Jongin had not even noticed the platter of food on the sideboard. He did not think that he could stomach any food in this situation.

He said nothing, though he continued to look at Adrian.

The man dithered then, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s better this way,” he said again, and Jongin did not know what it meant.

“This way?” he echoed, his voice breaking. “You mean, me hurting?”

“We can never be together, Jongin,” Adrian spat then, as though he just wanted to get the truth out. “I know that we should not have done… what we had done. I should not have let myself lose control. But if we kept this going, it will only hurt us more in the end.”

Jongin’s chest ached even more now. He climbed out of the bed and crossed the room to close the distance between him and Adrian.

When Adrian tried to pull away, Jongin stopped him, a hand curling around the back of Adrian’s neck. His skin was as hot as usual, but Jongin tolerated it.

“Jongin,” he groaned quietly.

“Every time you say my name,” Jongin whispered, looking into Adrian’s eyes with tears in his own. “I feel like I am alive for the first time.”

“We have to stop,” Adrian said unconvincingly as he stared at Jongin’s parted lips.

“I know,” Jongin let out. “But just tell me one thing.”

Adrian drew a breath, clearly forcing himself to hold back.

“Did you mean what you said?” asked Jongin. “Did it really… not mean anything to you? Was it… not real for you?”

Adrian pulled away then, frowning. “It was the realest thing I’ve felt in all my life,” he said. Jongin’s heart skipped a beat, and his breathing quickened. “But this cannot go on.”

Nodding his head, Jongin blinked away the tears in his eyes. “All right,” he said, choking on a sob. “I know that you are right. It just… hurts, that’s all.”

“It hurts me too,” said Adrian. “Like nothing ever had.”

Later, when they made their way to the Hall of the Greats, neither said a word. The wound was still too fresh.

The doors swung open behind them, and Jongin turned around to see Evzen strutting in, clad in a complete set of armour, though without the helmet.

While Adrian’s armour was forged in black and gold, Evzen’s was a deep shade of red, the hue of blood, and silver. But it was just as magnificent. Jongin would personally love to meet the gods’ armourers and express his admiration their works. They were simply breath-taking.

Now that Evzen had cleaned up, he was even more handsome than he had been when they had found him in Y’risa’s lair. He left the stubble on, but the hair on the sides of his head had been cropped short. And at his back, there were two silver greatswords, the biggest Jongin had ever seen.

Jongin blushed embarrassedly when the man smirked in his way after catching him staring.

“So, are we doing this or not?” he asked, arching a cocky brow at Adrian. Baashere galloped up the stairs, ready to embark on the adventure.

Adrian looked at Jongin. “Are you ready?” he asked in a low voice. Jongin bowed his head. It was time to return home.


	5. Chapter 5

# Quest Ten

**The Climb.**

It had been the deepest slumber he had ever been in. One that was devoid of dreams. He had not seen light in a very long time. The more he slept, the deeper he fell into the abyss of darkness.

When he was awakened at long last, he was unable to move for a length. He focused on his breathing, drawing steady breaths. The air around him felt warm, warmer than the hottest day of summer. He coughed when he inhaled ashes that floated in the air. He realized that he was kneeling on a solid platform that made his knees hurt.

“It’s okay,” he heard a familiar voice. Before he was put under, he had given the-boy-without-a-name a name. He had thought that Nix would suit him. It sounded cute, and it did not mean anything. He heard Nix at his side, touching his shoulder.

Kylan opened his eyes then and blinked at the redness that surrounded him. Even the sky was a horrifying shade of red and orange. Like fire. Before him, there were hills of rock, molten lava cascading down them.

He turned his head and looked at Nix, who was smiling at him. He did not look any different than from when Kylan had last seen him. He still wore nothing but a simple cloth to cover his… private bits, and his hair was still as white as pearls. He was crouching next to Kylan.

Had he been here the whole time? Kylan’s heart ached at the thought of Nix sticking around this ugly, terrifying place for him just so that Kylan would not be alone.

He had a friend now. A boy friend. Somebody his age. Someone who liked him and looked after him.

The last thing he remembered was being brought to this place, where he was promptly presented before a giant with the head of a lion and the body of a man. He had looked frightening, to say the least. But Kylan was not afraid. He had been confused and heartbroken from everything that had happened with his father, but he was determined to be brave no matter what. That way, nobody would mess with him.

The titan had introduced himself as Aeyr, Kylan’s grandfather.

Kylan did not recall anything that had happened next. All that he knew now was that he was somewhere he could leave. He did not know how he would even get out of here. There was nothing but mounts of rock and magma everywhere he turned. Palls of ashy smoke limited the range of his vision. Even if he left this place, where would he go?

He could not go back to his father—the man who had murdered his mother and lied to him for years on end. He would never be able to forgive his father.

“You are lying to yourself,” said Nix. Kylan looked at him once more, pushing himself up to his feet. Nix rose with him. “You miss your father.”

“I do not!” Kylan yapped at him. Nix flinched and took a step back. “I never want to see him again.”

Nix frowned. “He is coming for you,” he said.

Kylan blinked. “Why… would he?”

“Because he is your father,” said the other boy. “And he loves you.”

Kylan scowled at him. “If he had loved me, he would have told me the truth.”

“He might have thought that the best way to protect you was to hide the truth from you.” Nix sighed. “When you were asleep, I saw the witch. He said that your father is on his way here. He wants to fight Aeyr.”

Kylan huffed angrily. “Why can’t he just leave me alone?! I do not wish to see him!” Except that he was not sure if he truly meant it. “Wait. How did you see the witch?” Nix must be talking about Jongin.

“He was… able to see me,” said the boy. “because he was not in the real dimension.”

Kylan did not know what that meant. “Am I not in the… real dimension then?”

“You are,” said Nix. “But I don’t know how you are able to interact with me.”

Kylan reached out and touched Nix’s head just to make sure that he could still touch the boy. He could. “How did I… wake up?”

“I don’t know.” He glanced over Kylan’s shoulder and frowned. Turning around, Kylan saw the titan approach him. He swallowed hard. He had never even seen a real lion, but the titan’s lion head frightened him a little. Nevertheless, he tried to keep up a brave front.

“Kylan,” Aeyr called, baring his fangs.

“Why did you… put me to sleep?” Kylan asked, looking up at the god. He still could not believe that Aeyr was his grandfather. But he was thankful that he did not have an animal’s head, too.

Nix laughed. “You would be cute with a lion cub’s head,” he said. Kylan was not sure how the boy could read his thoughts, but he wished he would stop. It was an invasion of his privacy.

“Because I thought it would be for the best,” said Aeyr, lowering himself on a knee. Even then, Kylan could not meet his gaze.

“Then… why am I awake now?”

“For the reason that your father is on his way over,” said the titan. “I think he would appreciate it if you told him to leave before I could kill him.”

Kylan swallowed hard. His insides knotted all of a sudden. “You’re… going to kill him?” he asked in a shaky voice.

“I just might,” said Aeyr. “if he tries to take you away. You want to stay, do you not?”

Kylan hesitated to answer. In retrospect, he was not all that fond of staying with someone who wanted to kill his father. But he had nowhere else to go at the moment.

He nodded. “I will tell him to leave when… if he comes here for me,” he told Aeyr. “You don’t have to kill him.”

Aeyr rose back to his full height. “Now, that’s a good boy. I have so many plans for you, Kylan. Great plans that befit your great destiny.”

“My… My destiny?” asked Kylan.

“You will be the mightiest god to ever exist,” said Aeyr. “The prophecies say so.”

“Prophecies?” Kylan stared at the titan.

Aeyr nodded. “Now, rest.” He pointed to the table made of stone that appeared out of nowhere. It was filled with all sorts breads and jam.

Kylan was hungry enough to run over to the table at once. When he looked back at Aeyr, the titan was already gone. “What destiny? What prophesies?” he asked Nix as he greedily grabbed a hunk of bread and ate.

Nix leaned against the edge of the table and said, “You didn’t know?”

“Can’t you read my mind?”

Nix sighed. “You would be the three evil,” he said. Kylan shuddered and stared at Nix with his mouth full of bread. What did he mean by that? He was not evil. “The most powerful god of two realms, a monster of mass destruction, and a son who’d kill his own father one day.”

Kylan staggered back, gasping. “I am not a monster,” he croaked out. “And I would… never kill my father.”

“One day you will,” said Nix. “It is your destiny, after all. The prophecies never lie.”

A part of Kylan wanted to break into tears, while the other part wanted to punch Nix in the face. “Stop it!” Nix caught him before he could tumble over his own feet.

Nix huffed. “Don’t get angry at me,” he said. “It’s what the prophecies say.”

“Shut up!” Kylan growled at him. “And leave me alone.”

He turned away, scowling, hand squashing the bread.

“Kylan,” Nix called.

“I said, leave me alone. Disappear!”

Nix looked sad, but he withdrew and vanished into thin air.

Kylan walked over to the edge of the platform and looked down. There was nothing but an endless sea of red smoke down below. He was not a monster. He sat down on the ground and ate silently as a lump rose in his throat.

* * *

When the portal waned, they were back in the cave. Jongin dropped to his knees, feeling oddly sick.

“Jongin,” Adrian rasped, dropping to a crouch. “Are you all right?”

Jongin sucked a few deep breaths as his head spun. He winced when Adrian touched his back, though he quickly retrieved his hand. Jongin nodded his head shakily. “I’m fine,” he let out.

“Let me,” said Evzen as he curled a hand around Jongin’s arm and helped him stand. Unlike Adrian’s touch, Evzen’s was cool, though his hands were just as callused and rough as Adrian’s.

Adrian’s brows furrowed, but he did not say anything.

“Jongin!” Rakar’s voice boomed through the opening of the Gateway hall as he rushed in. “The gemstones have run out of power. They weren’t—” He stopped himself to look at the tiger and then at Evzen. “Oh, my… Who might this be?”

Evzen smirked, clearly taking pride in Rakar’s immediate admiration for the man. “The name is Evzenius,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Rakar let out, licking his lips as his eyes measured Evzen from head to toe. “So, does everyone from your realm look this good? Because I am considering migrating,” he said to Adrian. He paused, flinched, and ran over to Adrian, gawking at the god’s armour. “That is some… remarkable crafting over there.”

Jongin felt lightheaded as he leaned heavily against Evzen. The god wasted no time in curling an arm around Jongin’s waist. He was a great philanderer, all right. He probably flirted with everything that breathed and moved.

“Let’s set you down, shall we?” said Evzen while Rakar continued to marvel at Adrian’s armour.

Jongin nodded and let Evzen help him walk. The Gateway must have drained his powers once the gemstones began to lose theirs.

“Whoa,” Rakar gasped behind him. “You’re hot. Like… hot, hot.”

“Will you stop groping at me,” Adrian grumbled at him.

“Don’t flatter yourself, big guy,” spat Rakar. “I’m groping at your armour. Exquisite work.”

Qinto came running into the room out of nowhere as fast as his little legs could carry him. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, when he spotted the striped beast.

“It’s okay, Qinto,” Jongin said as he pulled away from Evzen to kneel before the baby fox. Qinto did not even look up at Jongin as he continued to stare at Baashere unblinkingly. His gaze softened all of a sudden, and he sprinted past Jongin.

Baashere jumped back a little when Qinto ran over to him. He pinned the fox down with a disgusted look, lifting a paw, as though to stomp on it and kick it away. But he stopped, the paw hanging mid-air, when Qinto pounced onto one of his legs, gazing up at him the same way he did with his mother.

Oh, no.

“Qinto,” Jongin called. “That’s not your…”

He trailed off as Qinto whimpered, circling Baashere’s leg, still looking up at the tiger endearingly.

Jongin sat down on the ground and tried to stop his head from spinning.

“You need to power up the gemstones if you want to get to Aeyr,” Rakar said, crouching before Jongin, lifting a hand to Jongin’s shoulder.

Jongin shook his head. “I can’t right now,” he said. He did not even feel his magic right now. “I need to regain my strength.”

Rakar sighed, but he bowed his head. “I will get you some water.”

The bodies of Vorrg and Ialdir were gone, so was the puddles of blood. Rakar must have gotten rid of them.

Baashere leaped away from Qinto when the baby fox relentlessly hopped around him. The tiger growled and spun around, snarling at the fox, ordering it to leave him alone. But Qinto persisted, skipping after Baashere excitedly.

“Are you all right?” Adrian asked again, walking over to where Jongin was sitting.

With his head hung, Jongin loosely wrapped his arms around his legs and sighed. “I’m just tired. Give me a moment.”

Evzen had already wandered away to indulge his curiosity about the new realm.

“How was it?” Rakar asked Jongin when he returned with a waterskin. “The other realm.”

Jongin took in large gulps of water and leaned back against a wall. “It was…” He paused and looked up at Adrian, who was staring down at him. “Not what I had expected.”

“So, where is this god?” asked Evzen. “I have been trapped in those caves for so long, I did not be back in one.”

“He is not here,” said Adrian, keeping his eyes on Jongin. “We will have to go find him.”

Jongin wished that the man would look away. Adrian’s gaze only weakened him. “I need some air,” he exhaled and pushed himself up before teetering out of the hall.

Behind him, he heard Rakar approach Evzen with a suggestive compliment, which Evzen quickly responded to with a clever quip that was just as bawdy.

By now, the old gods would have felt the arrival of another foreign god.

As Jongin made his way out of the cave, he drew in a deep breath of the fresh air that did not smell like damp moss as it did inside the cave. He then slumped his back against a rock and mindlessly played with the green and purple ferns that grew in the crevices of the rock. Slowly, he felt blood return to his cheeks as the magic was restored.

Adrian showed up a few moments later with Baashere, who was still trying to get the baby fox to leave him be. Qinto was now deeply intrigued by Baashere’s long tail that was flailing aggressively. When the fox finally grabbed the tail, it hugged tightly onto it with both its front legs. Baashere growled, though not hostilely, and yanked his tail back, turning around to snarl at the fox. Qinto sat his butt on the ground and cocked his head at an angle, as though to listen to what Baashere had to say.

Baashere growled quietly, leaning his head down, staring at the baby fox. Qinto sprung up to his paws all of a sudden and bumped his nose against Baashere.

Shaking his head, Baashere flinched back and snarled once more at the fox before he turned away.

“This is it,” Jongin muttered as Adrian neared him. “We are almost at the end of the line.”

“Not yet,” said Adrian. “We have not gotten Kylan back.”

“You are not a very optimistic man, are you?”

“Can you blame me?” He leaned against the rock beside Jongin.

“What’s the plan?” Jongin inquired.

“We go to Aeyr, beat him to a pulp and get my son back.”

“And after?”

Adrian was quiet for a moment. He eventually sighed. “Evzen, Kylan, Baashere and I return to our own realm.”

Jongin swallowed hard and lowered his gaze. “This time… you won’t be coming back.”

They said nothing to one another for a long length. Jongin listened to the whistling wind and Adrian’s ragged breathing. His heart felt so heavy that he could barely stand upright in that instant. He reached out and took hold of Adrian’s hand.

He felt Adrian shudder with a start, but the man did not pull his hand away. Jongin licked his lips, keeping his head hung, as he laced his fingers with Adrian’s scorching hot digits.

“Just for a while,” he whispered, voice thick with sorrow.

Adrian did not pull his hand away. In fact, he tightened his fingers around Jongin’s. They stood there like that for quite some time.

Then Adrian broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he said. Jongin clenched his eyes. He did not want Adrian to see the tears in them. “I had… hurt you so much. I had tried to push away for so long when I should have… appreciated whatever time I had with you.”

Jongin withdrew his hand from Adrian’s then. Pulling away from the rock, Adrian stood before Jongin and cupped a side of his face, forcing Jongin to look up.

His glassy eyes met Adrian’s diffidently. Though it burned, he could never seem to pull away from Adrian’s touch.

He shivered, hands rising to the breastplate of Adrian’s armour, as Adrian’s fingers slid along a side of Jongin’s jaw before they lightly held up Jongin’s chin. Bowing his head, Adrian then brushed their lips together.

It really felt like he was giving Jongin one final kiss.

When he pulled back, Jongin impulsively leaned in, his lips chasing after Adrian’s. “Jongin,” Adrian sighed, shaking his head.

“I can’t,” Jongin let out, more tears welling up in his eyes. “Take me with you.”

Adrian blinked, drawing away. “What?”

Jongin swallowed the sob in his throat before speaking again. “To your realm.”

“You can’t go with me, Jongin,” said Adrian with a frown etched to his brows. “My realm is constantly in chaos. You will not fit in there.”

“You fit in mine, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t,” growled Adrian. “And that is why I am in this mess. Please, do not… ask me to take you with me, Jongin. Because I don’t know if I can… leave you behind if you do.”

Jongin dropped his head, a teardrop rolling down his cheek. Adrian brought a hand up to Jongin’s face again and gently wiped away the tear before he pressed a kiss to the cheek, holding Jongin’s jaw in the hand. Jongin bit his tongue as Adrian’s beard scraped his face, as his warm lips brushed against the cheekbone.

When they drew apart, neither could look the other in the eye. Adrian wandered back into the cave while Jongin stayed out for a little longer, gazing at the vast expanse of forest before him.

He might not belong in Adrian’s realm, but he would be with Adrian. And it would have been enough for Jongin. But there was nothing much that Jongin could do when Adrian would not have him. He wished that they had had more time together.

* * *

“All right,” Rakar said once Jongin was done powering up the gemstones again. “That should do it.”

Jongin had managed to change into one of Rakar’s cleaner tunics while Adrian rummaged through the wagon before retrieving Kylan’s bow and quiver of arrows. Slinging them over his shoulder, he turned to Evzen without letting his eyes wander over to Jongin’s bared back.

“Do we have a game plan?” asked Evzen.

“Yes,” said Adrian. “Destroy everything in our path that stands in our way.”

Evzen nodded. “That sounds like a good plan,” he scoffed. “Although blind destruction is one of my more favourite styles.”

“We get my son, we get out of there,” Adrian said sternly. “I… hope nothing’s happened to him.”

Evzen raised a hand to Adrian’s shoulder then. “He will be all right,” he said. “He is _your_ son, after all. Remember how you climbed your way out of hell several times?”

Adrian snorted. “He is different,” he muttered. “He cares for… baby birds and… wood witches and… foxes.” But at the same time, Adrian had seen the determination and tenacity within the boy when he had encountered enemies on their journey. Perhaps Kylan was already better than his father. He was a warrior with compassion.

He had what it took to survive.

Adrian looked back at Baashere who was sitting on the ground with an annoyed glower on his face while Jongin’s pet fox played with his tail, pouncing on it every time it moved.

“Come on, boy,” Adrian told his beast, ushering it towards the middle of the room. Baashere rose to his paws and glanced back at the fox briefly before strutting after Adrian.

“See you in a jiffy,” Rakar told Jongin, clapping a hand on the witch’s back.

Evzen rolled his shoulders, popping the joints in his neck and grinned as he joined Adrian’s side. “What’s with you and the petunia?” he asked Adrian, who pinned him with a scowl. “It’s clear as day that you two are boning.”

“We’re not,” Adrian growled at him under his breath.

“Don’t worry about,” said Evzen. “I’ll keep my hands off that one.” He paused and smirked. “Although… you did bed my betrothed.”

“ _She_ came onto me, Evzenius. And I was… young.”

“And you wanted to irritate me.”

“Drop it. She wasn’t anything extraordinary. If you ask me, I did you a favour.”

Evzen did not seem to have taken offence. “You’re right,” he said. “I have met men and women far more interesting than her in my time.” He jerked his chin toward Jongin, who was starting to activate the Gateway. “He seems quite interesting.”

“He’d never swing in your way.”

“Is that a bet?” he asked, smirking.

“No!” Adrian hissed, eyes briefly going up in flames.

They fell silent as Jongin approached them.

“Qinto, you can’t come with us,” Jongin said to the fox that hurried to squeeze in between them. Baashere grabbed the baby fox by the scruff, latching his mouth around its neck and carried it away. Placing it down on the ground, Baashere huffed at it commandingly before he ambled back to stand by Adrian.

The baby fox looked at Baashere worriedly then, its gaze quivering.

“Come here.” Rakar picked the fox up before it could run back to Baashere.

When the Gateway appeared, Jongin led the way.

* * *

In the realm between realms, Jongin began to wonder what his fate would be when it was all over. If Adrian managed to get Kylan out of Aeyr’s warring hands, the realm could be saved. For aeons to come at least. Some prophecies could be overturned.

But what would happen to Jongin? He had betrayed his father and the other old gods once. His betrayal now would not be overlooked. They would come for him. He posed too much of a threat as he still had access to the Gateway. If it weren’t for him, none of this would have been possible. Adrian might have found another way to save his son, but it would have taken him so much longer. Months, perhaps even years.

He jerked to a halt and staggered back against Adrian, who had been following his footsteps closely, when the doorway of light appeared before him.

“Is that it?” asked Evzen. Adrian nodded.

“Aeyr is expecting you,” Jongin told Adrian. “You should anticipate resistance.”

“I always do,” said Adrian, brows furrowed.

Drawing in a breath, Jongin stepped into the doorway.

* * *

It was not what Adrian had thought it would be. Aeyr’s home was a lot like hell in Adrian’s own realm. The fiery lakes and cascading magmas looked quite familiar.

“Damn,” Evzen let out. “This guy has a terrible taste when it comes home décor, doesn’t he?” He coughed a little when he inhaled the smoke.

Adrian glanced at Baashere, who was baring his teeth all of a sudden, snarling as though he were ready to attack.

“Uh… Adrian?” Jongin called in a low voice.

Adrian turned around at once and looked at the horde of Dreygurs that were clambering up the cliffs of the mount of rock they were standing on. They were armed, and unlike the ones Adrian had fought before, they were bleeding molten fire and were moving faster than the Dreygurs usually did.

“Well,” said Evzen. “Our welcome party’s here.” He reached back and drew his two greatswords. Swinging them in his hands, he arched an eyebrow at Adrian. “Just like old times, eh?”

Adrian rolled his eyes and summoned his battleaxe. As the Godsbane took form in his hand, he swung it in a twist before he launched it toward one of the closest Dreygurs.

It plunged into the Dreygur’s head and ripped the dead creature apart to pieces as Adrian recalled the Godsbane back to his hand.

And that was when the Dreygurs charged at them at full tilt, brandishing their ragged swords made of stone. Baashere vaulted at them, tearing their heads off their bodies with his fangs and claws.

As Evzen darted forward, he drove one sword into two Dreygurs at once, skewering them, and decapitating two more with the other.

Hurling the Godsbane at the Dreygurs, Adrian lunged at another, his eyes blazing up with fire, and drove a fist into the Dreygur’s chest. The magma that ran through the creature did little to burn Adrian as he yanked out the insides of the Dreygur with his bare hand. Recalling the Godsbane to his hand, he hacked down every Dreygur in that was closing in on him while Baashere felled a few more, ripping them apart mercilessly.

Evzen had always been more graceful than Adrian when it came to battles. But he too relied on his sheer strength more than anything to defeat his opponents. Not many, even gods, could lift those hefty, mighty silver greatswords let alone wield them. Evzen did it effortlessly. As it was said, the weapon made the warrior.

“Fuck,” Evzen rasped once there were no more Dreygurs to slay. He turned to Adrian with a smirk, which quickly died when he noticed the massive piles of hacked bodies that were strewn around Adrian, who summoned his battleaxe from the last Dreygur’s head. “I think we’re even.”

“You wish,” Adrian spat at him and patted Baashere’s head. “Even my tiger did better than you.”

“Uh-huh.” Evzen scoffed as he sheathed his swords again, kicking a Dreygur’s severed head out of his way.

Adrian turned to Jongin, who was paralyzed with horror. “Lead the way,” he said.

Nodding his head shakily, Jongin turned on his heel and pointed at the top of a mount. “Up there,” said Jongin. “That’s where I last saw Kylan.”

As they made their way towards the stairs, Jongin halted in his tracks when they came across a wide, deep stream of flowing lava. Baashere was the first to leap over it seamlessly.

Evzen was quick to scoop Jongin up into his arms.

“Put me down!” Jongin gasped, wriggling in the god’s arms. “What are you doing?!”

“Put him down, Evzen,” Adrian grumbled.

Huffing, Evzen lowered Jongin back to the ground. Jongin shoved him away, scowling. Adrian beckoned Baashere to come back to him. The tiger obeyed at once.

“Climb onto his back,” he then told Jongin, who promptly mounted Baashere. “Go.” He gave the beast’s rump a light smack. Jongin held tightly onto Baashere’s armour as the tiger galloped over the stream again.

Adrian and Evzen leaped to the other side next.

“You know,” Evzen said to Jongin as they proceeded toward the stairs. “Normally, people don’t hate my touch.”

Jongin grimaced at the other man. “Big day for you, then.”

Evzen chuckled. “I like you, Jongin. You are feisty. I can see why even the most pig-headed, crass bastard in all the universe would fall for you.”

Jongin blushed. “What?” he muttered.

“A blind man could see what’s going on between you two. And trust my judgment when it comes to the matters of love.” He winked. “I was born to the Goddess of Love, after all.”

Jongin fell silent, frowning. Adrian had never told him that he loved him, though. Jongin wondered if he ever would, at least before they would part for good.

They stopped abruptly when they ground beneath them quaked all of a sudden. And it did not stop.

“You feel that, right?” said Evzen.

Jongin glanced around them and froze when he spied the trolls that were tearing through the rock walls before they leaped out and landed on the ground, roaring thunderously, beating at their chests.

They were bigger than the one Adrian had fought at Zaris. And there were three.

“You said… nothing about trolls, Adrian,” Evzen let out, almost groaning as he drew his swords.

Adrian clenched his jaw and gripped his battleaxe. That was when the horned headgear materialized around his head and the mouthguard locked around the lower half of his face as the fire flared up in his eyes.

Jongin stepped back with his heart pounding in his chest as the trolls charged toward them. Adrian and Evzen bolted forward, though Baashere overtook them, attacking one of the trolls first.

Evzen plunged one of his swords into the belly of the troll and grabbed onto its neck when it bent forward, clutching at its abdomen. That was when Jongin noticed just how extraordinary Evzen’s strength was as the god swung onto the troll’s back, locked his legs around its neck and drove the sword into the troll’s skull. As it crashed the ground, Evzen jumped off it as though it had been nothing to him.

Adrian, though not as strong as Evzen, was fiercer. His rage was the vehicle for his strength. He took a little longer than Evzen did to bring the second troll down, but he eventually did.

They tackled the third troll together and managed to kill it faster than the other two.

“I did so much better than you,” remarked Evzen as he jumped off the fallen troll’s back.

Adrian nodded, his mouthguard opening again. “This round, yes. You were. I’ll give you that.”

Evzen blinked., “Did you just… admit that—”

“Let’s get moving.”

* * *

They were so close to Kylan. Adrian could barely think of anything else. He did not know what he would say now that he was so close to seeing his son again. They had parted with a lot of resentment and regret. Kylan might never forgive him, but Adrian was obligated to seek it, nonetheless. He would apologize. He had to.

He would tell Kylan everything. It was the only way to save the boy from his malady.

As they climbed their way up the stairs that were clearly built for a titan, Adrian glanced at Jongin and said, “Thank you. For everything.”

Jongin’s cheeks, which had already been red, crimsoned even more. “And thank _you_. For… this adventure,” he replied in a low whisper.

Adrian thought of what Jongin had asked of him earlier. To take him with him to his realm. He had to refuse because his realm was not a place for Jongin. He would be lost; he would be miserable. Even at Adrian’s side. _Especially_ at Adrian’s side.

Adrian would have to assume responsibilities of his father when he returned. He could not afford to have weaknesses, and Jongin would indisputably be one of his two weaknesses. The other being his son. Love made a man weak. It was the ultimate truth.

“Had we met before…” Adrian trailed off, licking his lips.

“Aalitra?” Jongin finished for him.

Adrian sighed. “I do not regret her,” he said. “She gave me… Kylan.”

Jongin smiled at that. “Of course,” he muttered. “I hope… you find the peace you long for, Adrian.”

Adrian swallowed hard. “I am not going to for a very long time.”

Jongin’s smile was so beautiful in that instant. “When you are ready,” he whispered. “this realm will still be here.”

Adrian stared at him. “What about… you?”

“So will I.” Jongin stopped momentarily to face Adrian.

Adrian felt his throat close and his heart swell. “Do you mean it?” he asked.

Jongin nodded. “I will wait… for you.”

“Even if it… took centuries?”

The boy bowed his head once more. “Even if it took an eternity.”

“Adrian,” Evzen called from a few steps higher. “You might… want to take a look at this.”

When Adrian caught up with him at the top of the stairs, he sighed at the sight of the ring of fire that awaited them.

“What now,” he groaned, tightening his grip around the Godsbane.

That was when the sound of drums thundered around them.

Adrian planted his feet firmly into the ground as the titan emerged out of clouds of red smoke inside the ring of fire. He bore the head of a lion and the body of a giant, thickly armoured. He was better than Adrian had imagined him. But he did not look half as huge as the titans Adrian had battled in his younger days. Nevertheless, he was still a titan and a god at that. He would be a challenge, no doubt.

“You have made it,” the titan said, his voice as loud as a rolling thunder. “I was beginning to wonder.”

Adrian huffed out breaths of fire. All of him was blazing now. “Where is my son?” he asked, growling.

Aeyr tilted his head curiously. “Now,” he sighed. “is that how you greet your father-in-law?”

Adrian clenched his jaw. “You have sent your children after me, searching for me for years. Here I stand before you, Aeyr. What now?”

“I searched for you when I thought you were the monster sent to destroy the realm. But now I know you were just a catalyst. The realm’s fate lies in your _son’s_ hands.”

“He will not destroy shit for you,” Adrian spat. “He is _my_ son! He will not be your weapon!”

Aeyr laughed then. “But you have already turned him into one. He will grow up to be just like you. Perhaps even better. And that is exactly what I need.”

He then moved aside. Adrian’s eyes instantly darted to the little boy who was standing behind Aeyr’s leg, so small that he was barely noticeable.

“Kylan,” Adrian gasped.

The boy looked worried as his eyes met Adrian’s. His lips were quivering.

Adrian dropped his battleaxe and dropped to his knees, tears brimming in his eyes. “Boy,” he let out, a sob clawing its way up in his throat. “Forgive… me,” he said.

Kylan’s eyes widened.

“I should have… told you the truth long ago,” said Adrian, struggling to speak past the lump in his throat. “I thought I was protecting you, but perhaps I was… just afraid. I did not want to lose you, Kylan. I… I did kill your mother. I am the reason you grew up without her. But I was only trying to… protect you. I will kill anything and anyone to keep you safe. Even myself. I know that I had never been the father you wanted me to be. But if you give me another chance… I will do be better, son.”

Jongin stepped forward then. “Aalitra, your mother, was sent by him,” he said, glancing at Aeyr. “to find your father. Aeyr wanted to use him to destroy this realm. But she… stayed. And had you. The day she died… your father was… saved you from her.”

Kylan stared at them, tears rolling down his cheeks. “What… What are you… saying?” he squealed out weakly.

“She wanted to kill you,” Jongin said. The boy had to know, even if it would pain him. Adrian knew that Jongin could not let Kylan blame him for the death of his mother forever. “Your father killed her to save you.”

Kylan looked over to his father, panting hard as the tears streaked his face.

“Aeyr is keeping you so that he can turn you into his weapon, Kylan,” Jongin added, scowling at the titan. “He cannot wield the power needed to demolish an entire realm. But you would. That is why he needs you.”

“He is meant for greatness!” bayed Aeyr. “He knows it. You have lied to him. And you will lie some more. You turned him into your pet rabbit, hid him away like he is your shame.”

“Shame?” Kylan whimpered out, hanging his head.

Aeyr turned to the boy. “Yes,” he said. “Do you wish to go back to the misery he had put you through? You will continue to be a sick child. He will oppress you, keep you in the dark. His promises are empty, child. If he were heartless enough to kill your mother, his wife, he would not hesitate to kill you, too.”

“That isn’t true,” Adrian breathed out. “Kylan, I… I love you. You are my whole world. Come to me, boy. Please.”

“He isn’t going anywhere,” growled Aeyr. “He knows where he belongs.”

Kylan gazed up at the titan with his watery eyes before he looked at Adrian once more. “You… lied to me before,” he croaked out. “What if… you are lying again?”

It was a reasonable insecurity, one that Adrian was not sure how to eliminate. He took a good look at his son.

“For years,” he said. “since you were born, it had only been the two of us. I thought by shielding you from the outside world, I would be keeping the peace. But I was wrong. You _are_ meant for greatness, boy. And I will take you to that greatness. I will do better than my father. I will be the father you want me to be. These aren’t lies. But if you turn me away now and refuse to forgive me, it does not mean that I will walk away. I will fight, until my last breath, for you, Kylan. To keep you safe.”

“Then you will die today,” said Aeyr as he lunged forward with a fist, almost the size of a man’s head.

Adrian, without rising to his feet, hung his head. He braced himself for a blow, ready to dodge it, and that was when Kylan jumped in between them, crying, “No!”

Aeyr’s fist, that was meant for Adrian’s skull, struck the boy’s chest, and Kylan tumbled back against his father, gasping and choking for breath.

“Kylan!” Adrian caught the boy in his arms and placed a hand over his son’s chest, eyes stinging with tears. “No, boy. Breathe!”

Kylan struggled and quaked uncontrollably, gasping helplessly, hands trembling as they tried to clutch at something, anything. The whites of his eyes turned red as all blood drained from his face.

Evzen and Baashere charged at the titan then while Jongin dropped to his knees to take Kylan’s head in his hands. “My magic won’t work here,” he said, frowning.

“Do something!” Adrian growled.

“But I am a god…” Jongin let out and closed his eyes, placing his hand over Adrian’s that was splayed over Kylan’s chest. “I will try to channel my healing abilities.”

Adrian cupped his suffocating son’s head in his other hand and pressed their foreheads together. “Breathe, boy,” he whispered. “Breathe.”

He only brought his head up again when he heard the boy suck in a sharp breath. Jongin withdrew his hands and panted hard, smiling in relief.

Kylan sat up and sucked in a few deep breaths before he turned to Adrian and buried his face in the armour’s breastplate. “Father,” he whimpered.

“Are you all right?” Adrian rasped, wrapping his arms around his son. His touch did not burn Kylan.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said, weeping. “I’m sorry.”

Adrian’s head shot up to look at Evzen who were flung against a wall that cracked upon impact. Groaning, Evzen clambered back up to his feet and lifted his swords again.

“I could use some help here!” he bellowed before he sprung toward Aeyr again.

Adrian rose to his feet and held a hand down to his son. “So could I,” he told Kylan.

The boy took his father’s hand and stood up, gazing up at Adrian with glistening eyes.

Removing the bow and quiver from his shoulder, Adrian handed them over to Kylan.

“Father…” he let out.

“You are ready,” said Adrian as he recalled the battleaxe to his hand, the mouthguard locking itself over the lower half of his face. “Aim high.”

Kylan nodded, slinging the quiver over his shoulder before he drew an arrow and nocked it.

As they charged at Aeyr, whose was already bearing several gashes on his armour, Evzen attacked from one end while Baashere struck from another. Adrian vaulted off the ground, just as Kylan shot the arrow right through Aeyr’s eye, and drove the battleaxe into the titan’s shoulder, piercing through the armour.

Landing on his feet, he recalled the Godsbane, which had managed to severely injure Aeyr, before launching it once more toward the titan’s other arm.

Aeyr roared and stumbled as Evzen knocked him back with a fist before Adrian struck a side of the titan’s ribs with a booted foot, and Kylan shot another arrow that went right through the gash on his shoulder. Baashere leaped off the ground, roaring deafeningly, and latched his mouth around the back of the titan’s neck, yanking him down to the ground.

Evzen picked up one of his swords and wasted no time in plunging it through Aeyr’s chest as Adrian summoned his battleaxe and swung it high enough before severing the titan’s head from his body.

Bathed blood, Adrian tottered away shakily and fell to his knees, panting laboriously. He removed his headgear and hung his head.

“Cool!” Kylan screeched, running over to his father. “You’ve got fiery eyes!”

Adrian had not noticed. He blinked a few times and calmed himself down. Then he threw an arm around the boy and pulled him in for an embrace. “Why did you do that?” he asked. “You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“Because you’re my father,” Kylan answered. “I protect you, too.”

Adrian nuzzled against Kylan’s hair.

“Please, Father,” the boy whispered. “No more secrets.”

“No more secrets.”

When Jongin walked over to them with a nervous smile, eyes refusing to look at Aeyr’s dismembered, bloodied body, Adrian grabbed the witch’s hand and yanked him down, wrapping his other arm around Jongin.

“Thank you,” he whispered to Jongin, holding him as close as he could without burning him too much.

Jongin did not mind the heat or the blood and sweat as he leaned in and brushed his cheek against a side of Adrian’s face.

“Yeah, that was all right,” Evzen said breathlessly as he dropped to the ground too and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen better.”

“Who are you?” Kylan asked Evzen, pulling away from Adrian’s embrace.

“The most awesome person you’d ever meet.”

Kylan blinked. “You were… awesome,” he said, blushing hard.

Evzen nodded his head, smiling tiredly. “Back at you, kid.”

“Let’s get out of here,” said Adrian, pushing himself up to his feet. He grabbed Kylan and seated him on top of Baashere.

Kylan gasped, burying his little hands into the tiger’s fur. “Good, kitty,” he said. Baashere groaned as he started for the stairs.

“So, do the plagues stop now?” Adrian asked as they made their way back to the Gateway.

Jongin sighed. “I do not know for certain,” he said. “But the other gods… would not be happy about this. You should leave this realm immediately before they come for you.”

“Jongin,” Adrian began to say.

“It’s all right,” said Jongin. “I will be all right.” He looked up at Adrian with a smile. “Like I said… I will wait.”

“Do we go home now?” Kylan asked as he rode Baashere ahead of them.

Adrian licked his lips. “No.”

* * *

# Quest Eleven

**Farewells.**

“Are you really leaving?” Nix asked, taking his seat beside Kylan, who was perched on a cliff on the mountain, his legs hanging over the edge.

Kylan nodded, frowning sadly. “What will happen to you?” he asked.

Nix hugged his knees to his chest and blinked away the tears in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said.

“What if… I never see you again?”

“That will make me very sad.”

“Me too,” said Kylan, looking ahead at the trees and the realm before him. “Can I hold your hand?”

Nix hesitated for a moment, and Kylan instantly rued his words. But then the fair-headed boy placed a hand on the ground between them. Kylan took hold of it and wrapped his fingers around it for a moment. He quickly withdrew his hand and sighed sadly.

“I will miss you,” he said.

Nix was silent as he pulled his hand back and held it to his chest.

“I will miss Jongin, too,” Kylan added. “And Qinto.”

“But you are excited,” said Nix. “It’s a whole new adventure.”

He was right. When his father sat him down and explained everything to him, from the beginning to the end, and how they needed to return to his home realm, all that Kylan could think of was the adventures that awaited him.

He had been sick and shielded for far too long. He was finally ready. His father said so.

It was all very overwhelming, of course. This journey, the twists and turns along the way, the surprising friends he had made. But most of all, he had learned that his father loved him. Now, they were ready for new adventures together. Kylan was beyond thrilled by the very idea.

But it meant leaving his friends behind. He had asked his father if Jongin could go with them. But his father said no. And Kylan understood. The animals in the forest needed Jongin. Who would look after them if he selfishly brought Jongin with him? Then he asked if he could visit Jongin once in a while. His father told him that he could once he was old enough. Kylan was not sure what ‘old enough’ meant.

He had not said his goodbyes to Jongin or Qinto yet, and he supposed it was time he said them to Nix.

“Thank you for being my friend,” he told the boy. “I wish I could see you again one day.”

Nix nodded, sniffling. “Do not forget about me,” he said.

“Never,” Kylan promised.

“Who are you talking to?”

Kylan turned his head around with a start to look at his father, who was walking towards him. He had taken his armour off, but he still looked different. In a good way.

“No one,” Kylan muttered when he glanced to his side only to find out that Nix had disappeared. “Just myself.”

His father took a seat beside him and exhaled a heavy breath. He held out Kylan’s wooden toy. It was then when Kylan realized who the figurine was meant to be.

He marvelled at it for a moment, running his thumb over it.

“You made this, didn’t you?” he asked.

His father nodded. “Just before you were born,” he said. “I’d always be there. With you.”

Kylan smiled, hanging his head. “Father,” he called at length with a heavy heart. “Do the prophecies really say that I… will become the three evil?”

His father pinned him with a genuinely curious look. “What?”

Kylan gnawed on his lower lip. “I heard that… I will become the most powerful god of two realms. And I will destroy this realm. And…”

“And?”

Kylan could not bring himself to talk about the third evil. He looked up at his father and said, “I am the one… who’s going to kill you one day.”

His father stared at him vacantly for a length before he turned his gaze away. He was quiet once more.

“Is that… truly my destiny?” Kylan asked, tears stinging his eyes.

“You make your own destiny, boy,” said his father. “What’s important is that you stay true to yourself.”

“But what if the prophecies are real? What if I—”

“I do not fear my own death,” his father said calmly. “But you must promise me to be better.”

Kylan nodded his head determinedly. “I promise, Father.”

They sat there like that for a long while, saying nothing. Kylan wondered if he never should have told his father about the prophecy. Besides, it was obviously not going to come true. Kylan would never kill his own father. He could not think of anything eviller. Sons killing their fathers.

* * *

So, the cycle would not end.

Adrian, as a child, never thought that one day he would be capable of taking his own father’s life. But he had.

When the day came, when it was his turn, he decided that he would graciously accept the atonement for his sins. But until that day, he would continue to teach Kylan to be better than him and his father.

He found Jongin wandering outside the cave with flowers in his hair again. The mountain monkeys must have gotten away with their mischief when the witch was asleep last night.

Baashere was resting nearby, watching Jongin restlessly pace the small area that was filled with ferns and moss, while the baby fox slept on top of him. He had grown tired of trying to get rid of the fox. Or he had grown fond of it.

The morning was cold. The air was thinner up on the mountains than it usually was.

As Adrian approached him, Jongin turned around. He wore an unreadable expression.

“We are ready to leave,” said Adrian, stopping before the witch.

Jongin tugged at the cloak on his shoulders and nodded. He lowered his gaze, refusing to meet Adrian’s.

“Will you really wait?” asked Adrian.

Jongin raised his head and swallowed. “There will be a harvest moon on this day exactly twenty-one years from now. Will you… come and see me then?”

Adrian rubbed the back of his neck. “Why on that day?”

“It will be the longest day of the century,” said Jongin, smiling bashfully. “I will not ask you to stay any longer than that one day.”

“Twenty-one years,” Adrian let out.

“I will wait for you. Right here. I will keep the Gateway open.”

Adrian closed his eyes for a moment. “What if I can’t? What if you are waiting here, and I don’t show up?”

Jongin’s eyes turned glassy then. “Then I will wait until you do.”

Adrian brought his hands up to the sides of Jongin’s head and pressed their lips together. The kiss was sweet, full of hope.

“I will be here,” Adrian promised in a whisper against Jongin’s lips.

Jongin smiled, though his eyes were glistening with tears. “Come back to me.”

Adrian kissed him once more. “I will.”

He was not sure if it were a promise he could keep. But he would try. When it was all said and done, when he was no longer needed by Kylan, when his promise to his own realm had been fulfilled, he would return to Jongin’s arms, seeking the peace he had longed for.

* * *

He would wait. For all eternity, if that was what it took to be in Adrian’s embrace once more.

“Jongin,” Kylan called when he walked back into the cave. The boy looked up at Jongin with a miserable gaze. Jongin lowered himself to a crouch and pulled him into a hug.

“I wish we had had more time together, Kylan,” he said, choking on a sob.

Kylan buried his face in Jongin’s shoulder and rubbed his eyes on Jongin’s cloak to wipe away the tears. “I am going to miss you. I am sorry I gave you so much trouble.”

Jongin drew back, smiling. “I should thank you for everything, Kylan. I found a purpose because of you.”

“I wish you could go with us.”

Jongin sighed. “I belong here. But this is your home, too.”

Kylan smiled weakly. “We will meet again then?”

“One day,” said Jongin. “Absolutely.”

Kylan held out his toy to Jongin. “I want you to keep this.”

Jongin blinked. “But it is yours.”

“It will be something to remember me and Father by.”

Jongin did not have the heart to refuse. He took it. “I will safekeep this for you until we meet again.”

Kylan leaned in and gave Jongin’s cheek a kiss before he turned around and hurried over to his father and Evzen, who had already taken their positions in the middle of the room.

Adrian’s eyes were on Jongin, and he never averted them. Jongin smiled at him faintly.

He turned to look at Baashere, who entered the room, carrying Qinto by the scruff as he strutted over to Adrian and the others. Kylan grabbed the baby fox and cradled it happily.

“Wait,” Rakar rasped, but Jongin stopped him.

“No, it’s all right,” said Jongin. “Qinto will be happier with them.”

Rakar sighed. “For one last time,” he said, nodding toward the activator.

Jongin took one last look at Adrian, who was still staring at him, and placed his hand on the activator.

“Goodbye, Jongin!” Kylan cried.

“Goodbye,” Jongin whispered to himself as the Gateway appeared.

Twenty-one years.

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading/commenting/leaving kudos! <3


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